The Hobbit: A Suicidal Journey
by Vividpast
Summary: Bilbo has been planning to kill himself for a while. However, he wants to go out with a big bang and not just a common death. Cue Gandalf and his invitation to a dangerous adventure that will surely give him an opportunity to die in a lot of interesting ways. Now, if only those bothersome dwarves stop saving him at every attempt . . . Full prompt inside. Half serious, half not
1. (Suicidal) Start

**WARNING/S:** Suicidal thoughts, Romanticized suicide, Implied depression, Somewhat crack-ish so should only be taken half-seriously, not as depressing as it sounds

**A/N:** My first dip outside the Merlin fandom and it's this crazy Hobbit story! It's 2 AM here so I'm not thinking straight and probably delete this story tomorrow. BUT FOR NOW, MY BRAIN THINKS IT'S A GOOD IDEA TO UPLOAD THIS SO TAH-DAH.

Full Prompt at Hobbit Kink Meme:

_Bilbo has been planning to kill himself for a while; the Took in him wants to go out with a big bang that is exciting and thrilling. Cue Gandalf and his invitation to a DANGEROUS adventure that is highly likely to kill him in a lot of interesting ways._  
><em>Throughout the journey, he makes several suicidal decisions-though he takes care not to take any of the Company with him to his death. Maybe he asks the trolls to eat him first because he is supposedly the tastiest morsel among them or something.<em>  
><em>The Dwarrows think Bilbo as either heroic or incredibly stupid. Nonetheless, they constantly worry about him because of his tendency to always choose the dangerous paths. Maybe they become overprotective over time and Bilbo is touched but at the same time irritated because they're always foiling his suicides.<em>  
><em>I prefer it to be crack but the seriousness of the story depends on the filler.<em>  
><em>BONUS +100 for BilboAnyDwarf pairing_

Someone already filled it and y'all who likes sassy jaded Bilbo should read that! Here: / 13429 . html?thread = 24653685 # t24653685 (Add the hobbit kink website at start and remove spaces).

**DISCLAIMER:** The Hobbit book/movie is not mine! (But I do hope I own a hobbit one day ;))

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It wasn't that Bilbo was keen on dying.

There just wasn't _anything_ left to do but perish.

Bilbo leaned back on the bench, chewing the edge of his pipe. The Old Toby tasted bittersweet on his tongue—a tang he had grown to like. The morning sun was warm on his face and the earth soft on his hobbit feet. The green rolling hills of the Shire was spread out before him, astounding in its picturesque beauty.

When his parents died several years before, he was left all on his own in the big smial that was Bag End. The grief was too great that, at first, he was glad that he was all alone to wallow in his misery. But holing himself in Bag End for months had cost him most of his friends and relatives. Sure, they'd come around for tea once in a while but there was always some ulterior motive to their visits. They certainly didn't come for Bilbo's somewhat unpleasant company—his months of isolation had done no good to his social awkwardness.

Being a gentlehobbit also meant he didn't interact with hobbits that much. He didn't work—rent from neighboring hobbits was always send through his mail—so he only came out of his smial when his pantry's running low or he was in the mood to garden.

Bilbo lifted his gaze to the cerulean sky full of fluffy white clouds. He let out a resigned sigh. The weather was much too nice to be thinking such maudlin thoughts.

But Bilbo's searching for a definite explanation of why he had been feeling so _empty _and _numb_ lately. Well, it actually started a few years after his parents died so he supposed that's not exactly 'lately'. Some days, the emptiness _ached_ so much—almost like a physical wound.

Nothing in the Shire excited him anymore—not the parties, the festivals, the running little fauntlings asking for stories. _Nothing_ can stir his heart. Books about faraway lands and adventures can almost make his heart beat in excitement but after he finished reading them, he would feel more disconnected to the world than before.

Bilbo inhaled on his pipe and puffed out, watching as the smoke curled into the air.

He had read studies of Men about the general reasons for suicides. They concluded that one of the causes would be detachment from society. If a person had nothing to attach him to this world—family, friends, a purpose—then he would choose to go to another through death.

Bilbo supposed that was definitive enough.

He had thought about it, of course—ending his life would probably give him some kind of relief to the emptiness that had become his life.

But oh, how to go about it?

Bilbo would deliberate about it for hours in a day.

He would trace through the veins on the inside of his wrists, wondering how slowly he would die should the sharp kitchen knife pierce him. It would be messy and perhaps painful but Bilbo had read that a person experienced great euphoria when they lose too much blood. But Bilbo worried for the poor sap who would had the displeasure of cleaning his remains (there had been no bloody death in the Shire for decades!). And there was no need to ruin a good kitchen knife.

He would ran his hand through the clothesline, wondering how the swirly grooves would feel upon his neck as it strangled him. Would hanging himself feel similar to drowning? Or is drowning a better choice? Bilbo would feel weightless as he sunk onto the bottom of the river. The water would feel cool against his skin and he would probably see the wonderful shafts of sunlight before all faded to black.

Starving himself, jumping from a high tree, burying himself in the garden . . .

The thoughts, whenever they cross his mind, made his heart beat faster. His hands started to sweat and his whole body felt like it had been inflamed and, at the same time, doused with very cold water. It wasn't until his cheeks started hurting from smiling that he realized what he was feeling wasn't fear but . . . Bilbo didn't know what it was either but it was nothing remotely resembling the _emptiness_ he was feeling nowadays.

But in the end, he would came to the same reasoning; those deaths were too _boring_!

He closed his eyes, pursing his lips to blow out a smoke ring. He was quite an expert in making one, if he might say so himself.

The Took in him rebelled against such common ways to go! Since Bilbo had free reign to choose on how to die, he preferred to go in a creative and unique way. Being eaten by an exotic creature? Or maybe inhaling a poisonous gas? If he did go while being useful or maybe protecting somebody, then that would be a big bonus! Bilbo had always wanted to be the knight's best friend who ultimately sacrificed himself just to be useful.

Alas, Bilbo didn't think he'd ever be of use to anybody no matter how hard he tried so he would settle for an ingenious death.

Unfortunately, there were no such dangers in the Shire. And currently, Bilbo had not the motivation to venture outside of it, lethargic as he was on most days.

Perhaps he should content himself with a common death, then? As much as he wanted a thrilling death, he didn't want to drag this dreary existence into another day . . .

A great dab of air smack him right on the nose and he startled, broken out of his thoughts.

His eyes flew open out of his own accord. He was met by the sight an old Man as tall as a tree. His greying beard reached past his chest while his equally greying hair went until his waist. _Everything_ about the Man was gray, actually, from his drab robes and large pointed hat. He held a gnarly staff with both hands, leaning forward to stare at the hobbit with eyes twinkling with amusement.

Bilbo blinked, uncertain on what to do. It was a bit disorienting whenever he's abruptly pulled off his daydream. He fiddled around with his hands before saying, "Good morning!" with as much enthusiasm he could pull off—which, in these days, wasn't much.

The amusement in those eyes seemed to increase, if that was possible. "What you mean?" the Man started in a croaky voice that seemed only wise old creatures were capable of. "Do you mean to wish me good morning or do you mean that it is a good morning, whether I want it or not?" The Man paused only for a breath before continuing. "Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good this particular morning or are you simply stating this is a morning to be good on?"

Bilbo probably looked as stupid as he felt. Nevertheless, he took time to digest the riddle that was the old Man's words. He took two quick puffs of his pipe before replying, "I supposed I hope your morning to be good and that it is a good morning because of the clear weather." He gestured at the sky with his pipe.

The Man's brows rose in what was perhaps surprise. "Hmm. I see."

Bilbo gave a small smile and a nod. After a few moments, he realized the Man wasn't leaving. He grappled for the poor excuse of social skills he had. "Um. C-Can I help you?"

"That remains to be seen," the Man replied, leveling him with a measuring gaze.

Bilbo refused to fidget under the old Man's scrutiny. He was a Baggins of Bag End. He might be a recluse but he hadn't lost his respectability yet.

"I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure." The Man said, eyes twinkling with no small amount of mischief.

Bilbo's brows rose to his hairline, mouth dropping open. "Wh—An adventure?" he breathed out. Like the quests he read in books? "Those nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things?" He didn't care for anything uncomfortable but adventures were _nasty_, _dangerous_, and almost always _life-threatening_. He exhaled a deep breath to calm himself. Could it be? Could he really be this lucky? Just when he was thinking of giving up . . .

A disapproving frown appeared on the Man's face at the hobbit's words. "As I recall, Belladonna Took's son would jump at the chance to go on an adventure."

"Do I know you?" Bilbo questioned, narrowing his eyes. The Man did seem familiar.

"Well, you know my name, although you do not remember that I belong to it. I'm Gandalf! And Gandalf means me." The Man said with unnecessary flourish.

Well, old people tend to be dramatic.

Speaking of dramatics, Bilbo did know the old Man. "Gandalf? Not Gandalf, the Wandering Wizard, who made such excellent fireworks! Old Took used to have them during Midsummer's Eve." The old Man, Gandalf, preened at the compliment.

Bilbo remembered those nights. He wished he could relive the excitement he had at seeing those colorful explosions on the night sky. And perhaps, this was it. Gandalf, who had evoked such long lost feeling in him year before, must be here to do so again.

"An adventure, you say?" he asked with a tilted head. He felt a flutter in his chest just at the _thought_ of the danger this adventure imply.

"Yes, yes," Gandalf replied with a smile, the frown he had earlier disappearing at Bilbo's piqued interest. "One that may decide the fate of the whole of Middle Earth."

Oh. _Oh_. This wasn't just some quick run-on-the-mill quest then. Bilbo eagerly got to his feet, feeling hot all over. He opened the gate of his fence, gesturing the wizard in with his pipe. "Come on in, then. Tell me more over elevenses."

Gandalf appeared surprise. "I would have thought you would be more hesitant about this."

Bilbo chuckled, putting the pipe in his mouth. Perhaps once, he would have driven the old wizard out just at the mere mention of 'adventure'. But that was a time when he had yet to realize his empty existence, and when had yet to lose all kinds of strong emotions.

"Nonsense," the hobbit replied instead. Something told Bilbo that Gandalf wouldn't let him come should the wizard know of the hobbit's true intentions. "Tooks would at least hear more about this adventure before thinking to refuse."

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A journey through the dangerous territories of goblins and the forests of Mirkwood.

Thirteen careless dwarves with a knack for waving weapons at every single opportunity.

A dragon with fearsomely-sharp claws and rock-melting fire.

Bilbo brought the teacup to his lips with trembling hands, hiding his wide excited smile at the thought of _so many interesting ways to die_. Of course, he felt fear at the pain he might endure on this journey. The thought of the relief those exciting deaths would incur, however, was enough to overcome any other feeling.

He took a sip of the lukewarm tea before placing it down on the table. Gandalf frowned at him in concern, sitting on the only Big People chair in the house (Perhaps the wizard was the only reason this chair existed in Bag End). The wizard was currently puffing away on his own pipe, filling the smial with the scent of Old Toby. His plate of blueberry pie laid empty on the table, not even crumbs were left.

"My dear Bilbo, are you alright?" He asked, leaning forward.

"Yes, yes, quite," the hobbit answered with a dismissive wave.

It was then that Gandalf casted a suspicious glance at Bilbo that went unnoticed. The wizard continued on smoking, eyes taking in the hobbit's trembling and sweating hands, dilated eyes, and the big grin that the other was trying to curb by biting his lip. It seemed Bilbo was truly excited at the prospect of an adventure. Gandalf thought the hobbit had needed more persuasion.

The hobbit tilted his head. "You said the dwarves will arrive _tonight_?"

"Yes. All thirteen of them." Gandalf said in his usual amused tone.

"Right." Bilbo was already thinking on how he could cook for thirteen dwarves in just a few hours. Going to certain death surprisingly gave him the energy to care about being a poor host. He was no longer lethargic.

"You agree then?" Bilbo startled as Gandalf stood up, head almost bumping into the chandelier (again). The hobbit stood up with him.

"Why yes. Of course." Bilbo beamed. This adventure was a golden opportunity for a creative death! He would not miss it.

Gandalf gave a thoughtful hum, staring at Bilbo fondly. "You have not changed one bit, Bilbo Baggins. You are still the same fauntling that liked to steal my fireworks just for the sake of getting into trouble." The wizard chuckled, ruffling the hobbit's curls.

"Yes, but I'm not a fauntling anymore," Bilbo huffed, swatting Gandalf's hands away and giving him a half-hearted glare.

What Gandalf didn't know was Bilbo had changed—so much so that he no longer even feel like a hobbit sometimes. He was not the same excitable young fauntling he once was—rather the opposite actually. But what Gandalf didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

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**A/N:** Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Note that all I know about Tolkien's universe is what I saw in the hobbit movies. Sorry for any inaccuracy or misinformation! Well, I'll delete this tomorrow anyway.

**Additional Warning**: Suicide should never be romanticized. It isn't in anyway good or romantic. But people who have suicidal tendencies tend to romanticized it to justify their cravings for death.

Constructive criticisms are very much welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have a wonderful and cute-filled day!

~ Vividpast


	2. (Suicidal) Preparation I

WARNING/S: Suicidal tendencies, implied depression

**A/N:** I woke up the next morning STILL THINKING THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA. But yeah, this is most probably the last chapter I'll upload. Most of my muse escapes me quickly.

Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows. And I'm also sorry to disappoint y'all.

Meanwhile, guys, I implore you to review in the first fill of this prompt in Hobbit Kink Meme! It's a really wonderful characterization of Bilbo and maybe if many people commented on it, the anon will continue. PLEASE. (Link is on Chapter 1).

**DISCLAIMER:** Tolkien is a freaking GENIUS! I do not claim to be a genius.

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When Gandalf left to inform the others, Bilbo immediately started on the preparations. He had thirteen dwarven mouths to feed after all.

He cooked everything in his first pantry, thinking of bringing the remaining food in the second pantry for the journey tomorrow. He was never going back to Bag End anyway. Or the Shire for that matter. The notion sent a pang of homesickness and anticipation in his chest. He would miss Bag End, no doubt about that. He had many fond memories in this smial when his parents were still alive. At the same time, however, Bag End had been a constant reminder of the uselessness of his life. Its spacious corners and quiet nights reminded him how alone he truly was—how no one would miss him should he finally decide that day was to be the day he stopped existing.

But now, he had an adventure! The Valars had been kind enough to grant him an opportunity to go out with a bang and not a whimper.

Energized by this thought, he quickly prepared dinner. He grilled the fishes, cut out the vegetables plucked from his own garden, and roasted the beef. He pried open the clams, cut cow meat into square pieces to put into stew, and mashed the potatoes. He cooked the lambs, chicken, and sausages. He put loaves of bread on the table, bringing out every type of jam and cheese he had. He baked some more blueberry pie and added five apple pies to be certain. He placed the sweets and biscuits into small platelets for easy access. He checked the barrels of ale and, seeing the four barrels were yet untouched, decided that it would be enough.

When he was done, his arms were aching from all the chopping and stirring, and his feet were sore because of his hurry. He stretched, bones cracking, and happened to glance at his clock. He had missed luncheon and afternoon tea! Goodness, so that's why his stomach was cramping.

He stood in the middle of the dining room, satisfied with his work. Every inch of his dining table was filled with various kinds of food, from meat to sweets. Running out of space, Bilbo had placed some foodstuff atop counters and (closed) windowsills (No need for hungry thieves). Everything was piled high, seeing as all the food amounted to twelve hobbit meals. He hoped it would be enough for thirteen dwarves.

Bilbo grinned, feeling a bubble of delight in his chest. It wasn't just his impending doom that made the whole thing exciting. Bilbo was rather fond of new experiences and meeting new people, unlike most hobbits. The notion drove his lethargy away, and he felt more vivacious than before.

"Oh dear." Bilbo came to a sudden realization. "I haven't packed my things yet." It would be completely suspicious should Bilbo come bringing nothing but the clothes on his back. 'I'm planning to die anyway' would most probably not go well with his future companions.

Just as he was heading upstairs to his room, the doorbell rang. _That must be the dwarves!_

When he opened the round green door, he was met by the sight of a stocky creature with a balding top dressed in furred armor. Bilbo stared rather rudely. He had never seen a dwarf up close before. They were a lot taller and hairier than he expected.

"Dwalin, at your service," the dwarf greeted with a hard look and a small bow.

The greeting tore Bilbo from his trance. Remembering a little of what he'd read about dwarves, he reciprocated the words and the bow. "B-Bilbo Baggins, at yours."

The dwarf, Dwalin, barged into his house without further ado and proceeded to remove his outwear. Bilbo let him through, green eyes still observing the unfamiliar creature.

"So which way, laddie? Is it down here?" The dwarf peered into the long hall of bedrooms.

"Um, what's down where?"

Dwalin shot the hobbit a look that says he thought Bilbo to be scrambled in the brain. "Supper." The dwarf roughly through his coat at the hobbit. Bilbo fumbled to catch it, staggering at the weight of the cloth. "He said there'd be food and lots of it."

"Gandalf did?" Well, hobbits are known to be hospitable hosts. No surprise the wizard promised food. Bilbo freed a hand from the tangles of the coat. He gestured at the direction of the dining room. "I've prepared some food there."

Dwalin grunted in what must've been a sign of thanks before entering the dining area. Bilbo stood still for several seconds processing the whirlwind of events. There was a dwarf in his smial, probably eating his food. A dwarf who he would journey with in hopes of finding a thrilling death. Given the look the dwarf was shooting him, Bilbo knew befriending him was useless endeavor—as it always was when Bilbo attempted at anything social. If Bilbo hadn't been planning to go to his death, he would have been intimidated the dwarf's gruff appearance.

Bilbo pulled out a coat rack from a nearby cabinet, placed it by the door, and properly hang Dwalin's coat. When he came to the dining room, the dwarf was already helping himself to some of the seasoned fish.

"Plenty of food here," Dwalin said gruffly. "Did this all by your lonesome?" He raised a judgmental brow at Bilbo's clothes.

The hobbit looked down and realized he was wearing his cooking wear—a loose long-sleeved tunic, tattered trousers, and a long green apron over it all. Goodness, it wasn't very proper to greet guests like this. He flushed in embarrassment.

"I-I'll go get changed," he murmured, already making his way up to his room.

He changed into his second-best waistcoat, fitting buttoned-up shirt, and knee-long cotton shorts. He wondered if he could pack since he was already upstairs. Bilbo shook his head. He would be a poor host if he left his guest alone.

When he finally went down, another dwarf had apparently arrived. Bilbo was just in time to see and hear the dwarves loudly knocking their foreheads together. Bilbo's eyes widened in surprise. Their heads appeared to be as hard as rocks because the action didn't even seem to faze them.

Dying of a cracked skull from a dwarven greeting . . . doesn't have a bad ring to it.

The new dwarf, beard and hair as white as snow, noticed him first.

"You must be Master Baggins," he greeted with a diplomatic smile. "Balin, at you service!" He bowed just like Dwalin did.

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours, Mister Balin."

"Balin will do just fine, laddie." The dwarf chuckled. He looked upon the dining table, delight on his face. "Now, there seems to be a feast here!"

"Do you think it'll be enough?" Bilbo asked, running a hand through his curls to tame it. "For the thirteen of you?"

"That remains to be seen, Master Baggins!" Balin let out a laugh, patting his stomach. "Us dwarves have a hearty appetite, y'know."

"Just Bilbo, please," Bilbo attempted a smile. "Hobbits are known for their appetite as well. Do you want me to cook some more?"

"No need, laddie," Balin assured with a pat on the hobbit's shoulder. The action nearly sent Bilbo sprawling on the ground. Dwarves were _strong_. "I'm sure we can do something ourselves."

"I see." Bilbo frowned in confusion then. "Where're the rest of you? Gandalf told me you all would be here tonight . . ."

"Aye. They're on their way." Dwalin replied before smashing a cookie into his mouth.

"Did you not travel together?" Bilbo inquired, curious.

"Well, we all had different businesses to attend to." Balin didn't appear very eager to talk about it so Bilbo didn't pry.

Since the others seemed to arriving later . . . "Wou—Would you mind terribly if I left you by yourselves for a while?" It seemed he couldn't avoid being a poor host after all. "I haven't started packing yet and there are still some arrangements I need to make."

"Of course, laddie!" Balin conceded cheerfully, not offended at all. "My brother and I can entertain ourselves."

_Brothers?_ Bilbo glanced between Balin and Dwalin. There was little resemblance between them. Or perhaps Bilbo just wasn't used to dwarven appearance to pick out the differences.

Bilbo gave Balin a grateful smile before heading to the study. Several books filled the shelves to the brim, all worn and dog-eared. Documents and all sorts of parchment were scattered on the only desk of the room. Some of it were Bilbo's unfinished writings while others were just research documents he borrowed from the local library. Goodness, he should have someone return them in his absence.

He left the door opened as he entered so his guests could easily call them if they so wished. He pulled open the drawer of his desk and pulled out an envelope yellowed slightly with age. He sat down on the desk chair, fishing out a missive from inside the packet.

Bilbo had written his will years ago, a preparation for the death he was anticipating. He reread it again, wondering if he needed to make some changes.

Bag End and all paraphernalia within would go to Drogo, the cousin that he had liked the most. They hardly talked, as Bilbo hardly socialize with anyone, but whenever they did, Drogo was pleasant and sincere. Compare to other fake simpering hobbits or outright hostile ones, Bilbo's interactions with Drogo was a refreshing change. Bilbo had heard the lad was courting a Brandybuck. Owning a large smial like Bag End was a perfect way to impress such an aristocratic clan.

He donated most of his books to the local library. The ones written by him and his mother, however, he gave to his grandfather, Old Took. Bilbo thought the old hobbit would like the adventure books written by family, even though most of what Bilbo's works were children's stories.

He gave Hamfast Gamgee, a faithful gardener who was almost a friend, half of the garden in Bag End. Its harvests would all be going to the Gamgee family.

Lastly, he specified, in great and definite detail, that _nothing_ should go to any member of the Sackville-Baggins. Should Drogo die an untimely death without leaving any heirs, Bilbo asked that Bag End be handed over to the Took side of his family to deal with. The hobbit couldn't help but feel immensely and viciously satisfied as he read those last lines. The Sackville-Baggins were greedy hostile hobbits, and Bilbo loathed to leave his home to such beings.

He was rewriting copies of the will when the bell rang again.

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A/N: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum.

Actually, there's an additional 2 000 words that I've already written but meh. Seems good to end it this way.

I tried to stay true to Bilbo's character in the movies-fussy and sensible but with a bit of a suicidal note to everything.

As usual, constructive criticisms are very much welcome. Help me improve my writings guys!

Have an awesome day!

~Vividpast


	3. (Suicidal) Preparation II

**WARNING/S:** Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, Implied depression, Crack-ish

**A/N: **Oh my god, I can't believe I'm still writing this stupid story. Apparently, I'm continuing this *sighs*. Don't get used to the frequent updates though! I'm not known for finishing my stories nor updating them often.

**DISCLAIMER:** The Hobbit is not mine, alright. I'm not a genius.

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When he opened the door, two young dwarves met his sight. One had flaxen hair and beard while the other had dark locks and barely a stubble on his jaw.

"Fili," the blonde started, mischief evident in his smile.

"And Kili." The dark-haired dwarf's expression much that of the other. Bilbo was reminded of the tweens that dared steal his ale in the backyard.

"At your service!" They said, bowing in unison. My, they must've practiced that.

"You must be Master Boggins!" Kili exclaimed.

But Bilbo frowned, taking in their easy naïve demeanor and youthful appearance. Without thinking, the words, "I didn't know we're bringing younglings into the quest." spilled from his mouth.

Both let out an indignant squawk, surprisingly synchronizing with each other.

"Did you hear that, Fee?" Kili turned to the other dwarf. "He thinks us dwarflings!"

"Master Boggins! I'll have you know that Kee and I are of proper age!" Fili defended, sounding as enraged as a rebellious teenager.

"Oh, I apologize." Bilbo hurriedly tried to correct his mistake. The quest hadn't even started and he's already offending the dwarves. "I just meant you seemed too young to –I meant only—that is—" The hobbit sighed. "Never mind."

Both dwarves barged into the smial—Fili, with a confident swagger, and Kili with an excited run. In the next second, Bilbo found his arms full of weapons. His eyes widened with unhidden curiosity, taking in an ornate dagger, one thin sword, two sheathed swords from Fili, and bow and arrows from Kili.

"Careful with these." Fili warned playfully, gesturing at his longswords. "I just had them sharpened."

Sharpened. Bilbo wondered how sharp they were now. Are they sharper than his kitchen knife? How easily could they pierce through muscle and bone? The hobbit stared at it contemplatively, imagining . . .

A movement in the corner caught his eye. He saw Kili removing dirt from his shoes using—"That's my mother's glory box!" The dwarf was desecrating one of the few precious things he owned!

In a burst of anger, Bilbo marched to the dwarf and demanded, "You will clean that up this instant!"

Kili stared at him with wide shocked eyes. "B-But—"

"Mister Kili," Bilbo rudely cut off. "If you do not want to be treated as a tween then I suggest you do not act like one."

The young dwarf looked about to argue, mouth opening. Bilbo gave him a sharp look, daring him to try. Kili quelled at the look, properly chastised.

"There's a rag by the sink in the kitchen." Bilbo gestured at the direction of said room with his head.

Fili let out a guffaw, having watched the whole interaction. "It seems Master Boggins is not a hobbit to be messed with!" The dwarf slap Bilbo's back in what seems to be an expression of camaraderie. Bilbo stumbled, nearly dropping the armaments in his arms. By Yavanna, he was going to have some colorful bruises by tomorrow.

"And it's Baggins, not Boggins," Bilbo added.

Shrugging, Fili placed his arm around Kili's shoulder, steering both of them to the kitchen. Bilbo heard some undecipherable shouts as they passed by the dining room; Dwalin's and Balin's voices were amongst the noise.

"Look at all this food!" Kili's muffled voice exclaimed with delight.

Bilbo searched for a place to put the weapons. It was the first time he had guests that owned such perilous articles. In the end, he decided to place them on top of a trunk that housed his old clothes. He put the blades down gingerly, fingers lingering on the sheathed edges. He removed the quiver from around his neck where Kili had placed it, feather tickling his skin as he did so.

Staring at the weapons, curiosity threatened to overwhelm him. He had only caught glimpses of swords and arrows on the Rangers passing by the Shire. The hobbit glanced around and listened for any other sounds. All the dwarves were in the dining area, loudly narrating some anecdote or another. Perfect.

First, Bilbo pulled out an arrow from Kili's quiver. The wooden shaft with a feathered base ended with a rock sharpened into a pointiness. He tested the sharp end by pressing a finger on it. Sadly, it was only as sharp as the quills Bilbo used in writing, only leaving a slight indention on his skin. It would certainly take a great amount of force for the arrow to pierce anything other than paper.

Bilbo swiftly replaced the arrow on its container. He picked up Fili's two swords next. It was curious leather sheathe, casing two swords at each end. Bilbo grabbed the hilt of one and, with surprisingly little effort, pulled the sword halfway out. The blade gleamed menacingly in the light of the lamps. The steel was polished to an extent that Bilbo could see his own awed expression on the surface.

It was sharp—definitely sharp enough to cut flesh like it was paper. A sword to the heart? Or a blade to the throat? Definitely unique by Shire standards. Bilbo hummed contemplatively. He supposed it's not so much as the sword but by who was wielding it. If orcs or goblins were brandishing it at him . . . Bilbo chuckled. The hobbit wouldn't last a second when faced with such foes. It would be a swift satisfying death indeed.

"Master Boggins?" a wary voice called out.

Bilbo snapped the sword back into its sheath, heartbeat racing at being caught. He turned to see Kili shooting him a suspicious look, a dishcloth in his hand.

"I'm sorry. I was just admiring the—the workmanship on this sword," he half-lied. Well, he truly was fascinated by it. "Splendid, really," Bilbo couldn't help but add with a small delighted smile.

"My brother will be pleased to hear that!" Kili seemed convinced, grinning at the hobbit. "He takes good care of his weapons and would be proud, should you tell him what you think." He slung an arm around Bilbo's shoulder. "Although, you shouldn't touch a dwarf's weapon without permission, Master Boggins," Kili added with a subtle warning note.

"Yes, it was terribly rude of me." Blibo said apologetically, wringing his hands. _Seeing it was worth the trouble_, he thought. He absently noted that Kili seemed to be steering him in a certain direction. "I'm—Wait, brother? Fili is your brother?" Bilbo blinked as Kili's previous statement sank in. Again, Bilbo couldn't see any resemblance between the two of them.

The dwarf let out a loud laugh. "Aye. Don't worry. People are often taken aback when they find that this good-looking majestic being," Kili gestured a hand down his whole body, the rag in his fingers fluttering like a maiden's handkerchief. "is related to such—"

"Finish that sentence, Kee, and I shall have to disfigure that 'good-looking' face of yours," Fili's voice challenged.

Bilbo realized that Kili had brought him to the dining table where Dwalin, Balin and Fili were sitting. Fili had stood up at the hobbit and dwarf's entrance, eyes incensed. If it wasn't for the smirk on his lips, Bilbo would have thought Fili to be angry.

Kili returned the smirk. Unlike Fili, the expression just made the dark-haired dwarf look boyish and full of mischief. "You cannot beat me even if you try."

"Oh?" Fili raised a cocky brow. "And who was it again that lost his sword less than five minutes into our spar?"

"You know that the sword is not my weapon!" Kili almost whined. "And besides, you elbowed me!"

Bilbo watched the back-and-forth banter between the two brothers. Something constricted in his chest at the sight. Their easy interaction was something he had wished he had with another. Once upon a time, that is. He let out a quiet resigned sigh. He had long given up trying to form a relationship with another; the first few attempts were disastrous enough. Besides, he was going to perish soon (hopefully, _very_ soon). There was no need to wish for such an impossible thing.

Still, Bilbo allowed himself to envy them for a moment, and not a moment more.

"Have you eaten, Master Baggins?" Balin's kind voice broke through his thoughts.

"Hmm?" Bilbo turned to see the elder dwarf's bright smile. "As I've told you, just Bilbo is fine." After all, Bilbo would soon no longer be a master of anything, least of all Bag End.

"Bilbo then," the dwarf amended. "You said you didn't have time to pack," Balin said with shrewd eyes. "Perhaps you did not have the time to eat as well." The dwarf gestured to the seat beside him. On Balin's other side, Bilbo could see Dwalin stuffing himself with the apple pie he had made.

"Oh yes," Bilbo gratefully sat down. He had forgotten his hunger. But now that his guests were quite settled and he was faced with food, the pang in his stomach came back with vengeance. "I _am_ terribly famished."

Without further prompting, Bilbo filled his plate with mashed potatoes, roasted lamb, salad, and all kinds of foodstuff. It wasn't long before a mountain of food was in front of him.

"It looks like Master Boggins has an appetite of a dwarf!" He heard Fili exclaim.

"Or perhaps you lot have an appetite of a hobbit," Bilbo commented, lifting a fork of salad into his mouth. He swallowed before correcting once more, "And it's _Baggins_, not Boggins."

Balin let out an amused chuckle at that. "Kili and Fili have quite the mischievous streak."

"I've noticed," Bilbo couldn't help but deadpanned.

"Don't let it get to you, laddie." Balin, thankfully, only placed a hand on his shoulder and didn't slap his back again. The dwarf shuffled the food on his plate before clearing his throat, preparing to speak. "So, Bilbo, if I might ask—"

Bilbo would never know the elder dwarf's question because at that moment, the bell rang for the third time that night.

"That'd be the door," Dwalin inform brusquely—quite unnecessarily if Bilbo was asked. Everything Dwalin did appeared to be done with a certain amount of grumpiness.

The hobbit's was crestfallen at the thought of parting with the food in front of him. Alas, he couldn't allow any of his guests to answer the door, could he?

He reluctantly stood up and went to answer the door. The bell was ringing insistently, not even stopping for a moment. Clearly, the dwarf on the other side was the impatient sort.

"Coming!" Bilbo shouted, hoping to end the incessant buzzing. It was starting to grate his ears.

He undid the lock and turned the knob. The door flew wide open—

To welcome an avalanche of dwarves into the doorstep.

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He couldn't breathe.

Something heavy was literally weighing on his chest, crushing his ribs against his lungs.

Oh, Eru. This was it. He was dying.

He let out a gasp, black spots appearing in his vision. How was he dying? He was . . . He was suffocating. How . . . how . . .

_Boring_.

He had joined an adventure to die in an interesting way and _this_ was what he got? Confound that wizard! Bilbo was promised goblins, steep cliffs, dark forests, and a dragon! And now, he was just dying of asphyxiation? But Bilbo supposed the wizard couldn't be blamed if the hobbit couldn't even make it out of his front door.

Oh, it was painful. He felt like his insides were being squeezed out of his skin. His lungs weren't expanding and he couldn't stop himself from breathing in.

For the first time in a long while, however, Bilbo felt like he was finally grounded into his body. He felt _real _and _alive. _The constant emptiness in his chest was chased away by the enormous agony he was feeling.

Then, the load on top of him shifted and suddenly, the hobbit could breathe again.

Instinct forced him to gulp in the huge amounts of oxygen he needed. He choked on air, coughing so hard he felt like his lungs were going to burst out. Gentle hands rubbed his back while another pair lifted him to his feet. Something popped in his ears and all the sounds came rushing in his head.

"—killed our burglar!" One of the dwarves was exclaiming.

"—your fault, Bombur, you clumsy oaf!" reprimanded another.

"Are ye a'right, lad?" a hatted dwarf bent down to Bilbo's eye level.

Bilbo blinked rapidly at having someone suddenly in his personal space. The noise was deafening, all dwarves shouting at the same time, their booted feet stomping loudly on the ground.

"Here," The hatted dwarf raised his index finger. "Follow my finger with yer eyes." Utterly bewildered by the sudden chaos in his house, Bilbo could do nothing but comply. "That's it, lad."

"Move, you silly miner," Suddenly, the hatted dwarf was replaced grey-haired one with a beard braided in a spiral form. "I believe I am the healer in this Company."

Healer? "No, I'm—I'm quite fine." Bilbo stepped away from the reaching hands of said dwarf.

"What's that, lad?" the grey-haired dwarf asked, placing a horn in his ear. "You want white wine?"

"Come on, you lot!" Dwalin yelled, standing at the entrance of the dining room. Every one turned to look at the direction of his voice. "There's plenty of food here!"

Like hobbits, the dwarves hurried to the dining table at the mention of food, good-naturedly pushing each other; they've completely forgotten about the hobbit they almost crushed to death (_almost_ was a very disappointing word). Bilbo watched them with wide bemused eyes. Each dwarf was as unique as the other, from the color of their hair to shape of their noses and the braids of their beards. The hobbit had never seen such an assortment of beings.

"Quite a merry gathering, aren't they?"

"Gandalf!" Bilbo uttered in surprise. He had just noticed the wizard had apparently accompanied the last surge of dwarves. "Yes, they—they are quite something."

He would be travelling with these rowdy dwarves. Seeing as they almost killed him at their first meeting, Bilbo supposed they would be good companions for his purpose.

Gandalf smiled, eyes twinkling with merriment. "Let us make sure your guests are properly settled, shall we?"

"Of course," Bilbo replied, returning the smile as he followed Gandalf into the dining room.

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**A/N**: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English is not my native tongue)

P.S. Kili dragged Bilbo to the dining room so he wouldn't have to clean the glory box. And you think Kili wasn't smart.

As you can see, I've changed the summary a bit. The prompter wanted a Bilbo/Dwarf pairing, and to be honest, I'm still deciding whether to do it or not. I'm leaning heavily on having SLASH (because I like SLASH, alright) but I can do extreme BROMANCE bordering on SLASH. What do you guys think? What relationship would make the story better?

Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


	4. (Suicidal) Meetings

**WARNING/S: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression, implied panic attack, Crack-ish**

**A/N****:** Ugh, too many tests in college and not enough time to review for it. So, here it is, the 4th rendition of this . . . thing. Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows! I didn't really think people would be interested in such a crazy story!

Sorry for the slow pacing of this story. Almost all of my stories are dependent upon the banter between characters (because I love writing banters!), and developing their relationships. I'll quicken the pace though! Just one more chapter after this, and they'll be off Bag End, I promise!

**DISCLAIMER:** The Hobbit book/movie is not mine, not matter how I wish it is.

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Bilbo couldn't do it.

Oh, Eru.

Standing outside the dining table, the hobbit watched as the dwarves stuffed themselves with his cooking. They truly were a merry gathering—throwing food at each other, boisterously cheering, loudly slapping their hands on the table, and stomping their little feet on the floor.

"Bombur, catch!" the hatted dwarf threw a piece of chicken at the red-haired dwarf at the other end of the table.

The dwarf skillfully caught the meat with his mouth, instantly swallowing it without even chewing. The others cheered as if it was a great achievement. The dwarves barely used the silverware Biblo set out, opting instead to grab the food with their bare hands.

"Who wants some ale?" Various foodstuff was stepped on as Fili walked the length of the table, holding several pints in his hands. Gandalf easily swat away any food that came near him or his clothes, casually eating in the middle of the disarray.

Bilbo gripped the edge of the archway with white knuckles, face pale. He would have been irritated at the wastage of such good food, and the possible damage to his mother's pottery if he wasn't currently hyperventilating.

Oh, dear. He hadn't considered this.

He had been living in Bag End all by himself for over seventeen years. In all those years, he only entertained guests that were few and far in between. Now, there were thirteen dwarves in his homely smial, and Bag End had never felt so _small_.

It had been a long time since Bag End had laughs resounding in its halls. He hadn't thought he would be overwhelmed by all the ruckus. As usual, Bilbo had overestimated his ability to adapt to any situation. It was too crowded. There were too many people, too many voices, too many judgmental looks, too many noises . . . too much for an introvert like Bilbo.

He felt like he was under several dwarves again except there was no presence of the sweet grounding pain; there was only his inability to _breath_.

Bilbo needed air.

Silently apologizing for being a poor host yet again, he soundlessly slipped away from the celebration, needing to collect himself.

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He puffed away on his pipe, its embers his glowing like little fireflies in the dark.

It was a particularly warm night in the Shire. The wind blowing from the east soothed his frayed nerves, as does the taste and scent of Old Toby.

He blew a perfect smoke ring into the night sky, the circle engulfing a hundred stars inside.

A loud cheer was heard inside Bag End, followed by a _CRASH_. Oh, Eru. He hoped the dwarves weren't destroying anything irreplaceable. He didn't want to give Drogo any less of the Bag End Bilbo received.

Bilbo sighed. He shall have to get used to the chaos that were his dwarven companions or he'll never have the courage to go out his front door. This was his only opportunity for an exciting death. Just a few more failed attempts at conversation and he would never have to get used to anyone or anything ever again.

Sitting down after all the excitement, Bilbo was made aware of just how _exhausted_ he was. Not only did he cook half the day away, he had also dealt with the dwarves. And so, he was perfectly content to rest for a while on the outside of his home.

He heard heavy steps on the pavement and glanced up. He was prepared to greet the hobbit that was perhaps taking a nice evening stroll, and apologize for the noise coming from his smial. What he wasn't prepared for, however, was the sight of a tall dwarf in a majestic furred coat glaring at him. His dark hair was like long curtains framing his head, large nose jutting out of his face like a mountain. Unlike the other dwarves (well, except Kili who barely had whiskers on his face), his beard was cropped near his chin.

"Hobbit," the dwarf called out with an impatient huff, emphasizing the 't'.

Bilbo blinked up at him stupidly. He thought all thirteen dwarves had arrived. Well, he didn't even think to count them so he was clearly wrong.

"Where might I find—" The dwarf's gaze landed on Bag End's round door. He didn't finish his sentence, choosing instead to walk inside the gate fence of Bilbo's home. The hobbit observed the dwarf as he startled, seemingly realizing that Bilbo was located _inside_ the fence.

The dark-haired dwarf glanced at Bag End then at Bilbo. His gaze rove over the hobbit, taking in his elegant waistcoat, soft round face, unruly curls, and big furry feet. His brows furrowed—either in confusion or disapproval, Bilbo knew not. Bilbo stared back, still puffing on his pipe, silently wondering if the dwarf was a bit soft in the head. The dwarf had been looking unblinkingly at Bilbo for a while now.

The dwarf cleared his throat then. "You live in this hobbit hole?" He asked gruffly, gesturing at Bag End.

"It's called a smial," Bilbo replied evenly, used to correcting Big Folk on their mistakes about hobbit culture. "And yes, I do." He exhaled another two smoke rings before saying, "The other dwarves are inside. You should go in before they eat all the food."

"Dwarrows." The dwarf said apropos of nothing.

"Pardon me?" Bilbo asked politely.

"Dwarrows. Not dwarves. Dwarrows is the plural of a dwarf." The dwarf informed magnanimously, like he was imparting some great knowledge onto the world and not just correcting Bilbo's grammar.

"Truly?" Nevertheless, the fact that 'dwarrows' was an actual term piqued Bilbo's interest. Ever the scholar, the hobbit inquired, "What about dwarven females? Are they also referred to as 'dwarrows'?"

The dwarf snorted. "They are called dwarrowdams, Hobbit."

Bilbo hummed. Dwarven culture, especially their language, had too few records about it. Hearsays had it that dwarrows were secretive of their heritage and thus, go through great lengths not to share the knowledge with other races.

"Thank you for informing me, Dwarf," Bilbo replied in turn.

The dwarf's glare was back, burning a hole through Bilbo's head. The hobbit would have been more scared if he hadn't been planning his death for years. As it was, nothing the dwarf could do to him would be worse than what he shall be doing to himself.

"You mock me?" the dwarf growled, marching towards the bench Bilbo was sitting in.

The hobbit had to crane his neck to stare at the dwarf's face. Bilbo frowned, confused. "No . . . ?" What did he do wrong? He usually didn't screw up until at least five minutes into a conversation. It's been less than three. This was a new record. "What was it that I said that offends you so?" Bilbo asked, going over his sentence in his mind and finding nothing insulting in it.

"You called me 'Dwarf'!" the dwarf all but roared.

"And you called me 'Hobbit'." Bilbo replied, voice rising in incredulity. "Are we not a dwarf and a hobbit?" Perhaps the dwarf really was soft in the head. Honestly, being offended at being called he was!

The dwarf paused, visibly faltering. "I . . . You truly find nothing degrading in being called a 'Hobbit'?" He gave Bilbo a scrutinizing look, gauging his reaction.

"I would prefer to be called by my name, Bilbo Baggins. But there's nothing wrong with being called what I am." Bilbo was thoroughly bewildered now. Was there a faux pas he was completely overlooking?

With the 'you are strange' look the dwarf was shooting him, Bilbo supposed there was. Whispers of 'Mad Baggins' echoed in his ears, cruelly taunting him. The hobbit squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcefully dispelling the phantom voices. His grip on his pipe tightened to the point that the wood was creaking in protest.

Bilbo let out a tired and resigned sigh for the nth time that day alone. He was too exhausted to be dealing with rude dwarves that may or may not have a mental-affliction.

He got to his feet, neck already aching from looking up at the dwarf. He tapped out the ashes from his pipe. "It has been a long day. I'm sure it has been for you as well." Bilbo added the last sentence as an afterthought. "Why don't you come inside and eat? And I'll—Oh dear, I haven't even prepared the rooms yet!" exclaimed the hobbit, slapping a hand on his forehead. More to himself, he muttered, "Surely, you won't be staying in an inn. The nearest one is an hour away by feet. I haven't aired out the cushions. It's all probably dusty—"

"My Company shall take care of their own," interjected the dwarf. In a flat tone he added, "As they always had since we've lost our home." With that parting statement, the dwarf strode away, heading towards Bag End.

"_Your_ Company?" Bilbo asked, hurriedly follow the dwarf. The other's stride was wide and fast, and Bilbo struggled to keep up.

"Yes," was all the dwarf said before he rapped his knuckles on the round door.

Before he could help it, Bilbo shot the dwarf a pitying look. Yes, definitely mentally-afflicted, this one. "Um, there is a doorbell right here." Bilbo pointed at the string connected to a bronze bell that was beside the door. "And," the hobbit pushed the green door open with one hand. "I couldn't lock the door if I was outside, could I?"

The dwarf shot Bilbo a particularly scathing look—not that the hobbit noticed. Instead, the hobbit's wide eyes were drawn to a glowing rune carved on the wooden door. It appeared similar to the Westron letter 'F'.

"What in Eru's name . . ." Bilbo leaned down, fingers running through the wood. He was quite sure this mark wasn't here before. Who on Middle Earth had vandalized his home?

"It is Gandalf's symbol," the dwarf behind him muttered with a brusque tone before pushing past Bilbo and entering Bag End.

"_Gandalf?_" Ooh, that blasted wizard!

"Bilbo, my dear, there you are!"

Speak of the wizard and he shall appear. Trailing after Gandalf like ducklings were the other dwarrrows. They were chattering excitedly with one another. However, as their gazes landed on the dwarf by the front door, they abruptly stopped—both in their conversations and their steps.

Bilbo opened his mouth to demand answers about his door but the recently arrived dwarf beat him to it.

"Gandalf, I thought you said this place was easy to find," the dwarf said, removing his outerwear. Bilbo, by routine, grabbed for it and hang it right beside the other dwarrows' coats. The dwarf merely raised an unimpressed brow before continuing, "I lost my way. Twice."

Twice! Why, Bag End was one of the most noticeable smial of them all! _Not only mentally-afflicted but directionally-challenged as well. . . What is Gandalf thinking?_

"I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

The statement brought back Bilbo's anger.

"Gandalf!" Bilbo placed his fists on his hips, eyes burning with fury as he looked up at the wizard. "What have you done with my door?" Bilbo pointed at the glowing rune. "This was painted just a week ago!" The hobbit didn't want to give Drogo any more work than he had to. He didn't want to give away Bag End in poor condition.

"Ah, yes. I've carved a mark on it so the dwarves could easily find it." Gandalf replied with a smile. The smile dropped as Bilbo continued glaring up at him. The hobbit appeared as intimidating as a bunny but the wizard knew that hobbits, especially of the Took side, were never quite as innocent as they seemed. Gandalf cleared his throat. "Y-Yes, it was terribly rude of me to put it there without your permission. I apologize."

"And can you . . . magicked it away?" Bilbo crossly asked, folding his arms on his chest.

Gandalf looked extremely offended at the suggestion. "Magic is used for things only of outmost importance, Bilbo. Not for doors that just needs a little bit of paint to fix!"

Bilbo let out a frustrated sigh. "I thought as much." He closed the door, already thinking of adding an apology in his letter to Drogo.

"I see you have met the leader of our Company." Gandalf said, nodding at the last dwarf.

Bilbo's brows rose with surprise; he turned to the aforementioned dwarf.

"You are the leader?" asked Bilbo. Now in the proper lighting, the hobbit could see the regal bearing of the dwarf. His eyes were old and his face was set in a hard determined edge. The dwarf had definitely pegged the 'fallen soldier' look.

For the sake of the other dwarrows, he hoped the dwarf was not actually as brain-addled as he seemed to Bilbo.

"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain," the dwarf said tersely, not even attempting to bow. He gave Bilbo a look that one would give to a bug in his path. Bilbo tried and failed not to feel inadequate. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Thorin released the hobbit from his scrutinizing gaze.

"We have much to discuss, Gandalf," the dwarven leader nodded at the wizard before stalking away towards one of Bag End's many halls.

The other dwarrows followed after without hesitation, gravitating to him like magnets to a pole.

Bilbo frowned after them. "Where are they going?" He and Gandalf exchanged confused glances. "The dining room's at the other side."

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**A/N: **Unbeta'd so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English is not my native tongue)

P.S. I researched about the mark on Bilbo's door. In the book, it's not really an 'F' but 3 runes symbolizing a Burglar, Excitement, and Reward. But the movie showed only an 'F' -like symbol. Apparently, in Cirth (the language which Khuzdul was based on), it's actually a letter 'G'. That's why it could denote 'Gandalf'

Thank you for all your suggestions about the bromance/slash thing! So far, I haven't decided yet whether to have a SLASH pairing with Bilbo but there will definitely be a BROMANCE. Perhaps Bilbo with all thirteen of the dwarves (and maybe some elves and men). But I will probably have Thorin as the best friend because, well, considering happened in the last Hobbit movie, THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES! *evil laughter*. So many opportunities to torture Bilbo . . . Wait, I meant *clears throat*, so many opportunities to cure Bilbo of his depression, of course . . .

Yeah, so if you guys don't like a Thorin/Bilbo bromance, I apologize, but this is not the story for you. Happy readings!

Constructive criticisms are very much welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


	5. (Suicidal) Planning

**WARNING/S**: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression, crack-ish

A/N: Welp, 5th chapter. Thanks for all the comments, favorites, bookmarks, and follows! It's like 1 AM here so I can't think of anything to say . . . Maybe later.

**DISCLAIMER: **Me no own Hobbit. Me just have fun

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After pointing the dwarrows to the right direction of the dining room, Bilbo decided to clean up. There was a lot of work to do.

When he entered the kitchen, however, he was pleasantly surprised to find it completely spotless. Sure, the washed stacks of plates on the corner still needed to be put away. But other than that, there were no crumbs on or under the counters, no furniture destroyed, and no traces of mud on the floor. He hoped the dining room was much the same.

"They will not come," Bilbo heard Thorin say as he came in. "They say this quest is ours and ours alone."

The dwarrows' reaction ranged from mild sighs of defeat to angry mutterings in an unfamiliar language. Bilbo, meanwhile, was frowning in disapproval. Thorin was eating a mere gruel that Bilbo most assuredly did not prepare. Had the dwarrows truly eaten everything?

Bilbo was tempted to just nastily let Thorin eat the meager food. The dwarf had been terribly rude to him even if Bilbo had done nothing but welcome _his_ Company.

In the end, the Baggins in him won. He could never be so cruel to a guest. Oh, this would not do at all.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow," Gandalf called out. Bilbo looked up to the wizard, who was at the hobbit's height even though he was already sitting. "Let us have a little more light."

Bilbo nodded rapidly and went to get another candle to light up. As soon as he had the candle on the holder, he placed it before the map Gandalf apparently pulled out from his robes.

Bilbo couldn't help but give more than a cursory glance at the parchment. He had always liked maps of any kind. There were strange runes written at the margins and "The Lonely Mountain," was only few of the texts written in Westron.

But Bilbo shook himself out of his trance, and headed to his second pantry. He heard the strong voices of the dwarrows droning in the background. Bilbo hoped he wasn't missing anything important . . . Not that he needed to know the details anyway since he was not going to see this quest through the end. It was most probable that he'll die less than halfway to it.

The hobbit Bilbo quickly whipped out a simple meal of fried chops and roasted lamb, sprinkling them with rosemary. There were some blueberry pies left in the kitchen so Bilbo just added honeyed bread to the dessert.

When he came back with the tray of food, the dwarves were cheering at some thing or another, yelling boisterously all at the same time. Even Thorin was on his feet, joining in the shouting, gesturing wildly.

"Forget it," Balin said, silencing them with his somber tone.

All the other dwarrows sat down, frowning inquiringly at Balin.

"There is now way into the mountain," Balin continued and was about to say more but Gandalf beat him to it.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf interjected, revealing an important-looking key out of nowhere.

Bilbo gave it but a passing glance. He didn't care for the details of the quest except if they pertained to his possible demise. A key didn't seem relevant.

Instead, he seized the bowl of . . . something barely edible . . . from Thorin's grasp. Fervently listening to whatever Gandalf was saying, the dwarf merely let him. The hobbit set the pies and meats before Thorin. He grabbed what he assumed was Thorin's mug and went to refill it.

"The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage," Gandalf was saying. His glance at Bilbo went unnoticed as the hobbit placed down the mug of ale. "But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" one of the young dwarrows piped up.

"And a good one too," Bilbo couldn't help but put his two coins in. "An expert, I'd imagine." And one who'd be brave enough to face the dragon that the mountain housed.

"And are you?" someone asked.

Bilbo glanced around and realized with a start that everyone was staring at him. "Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert!" the dwarf with an ear trumpet exclaimed, laughing in delight.

Bilbo's eyes widened as he piece two and two together. "Me? A burglar? I've never stolen a thing in my life!"

Gandalf frowned. "Bilbo, my dear, are you already having second thoughts? Why, just this morning, you were so excited!"

"You never mention about me being a burglar!" Bilbo retorted, slightly hysterical. "I can't be—I just—"

"Didn't I?" Gandalf hummed thoughtfully. "Must've slipped my mind."

The hobbit thought he would be a tagalong, another member to add just so they could at least increase in numbers. He thought that his participation wouldn't matter in the long run. He never expected that he would have such an important role. Why, when they reach the mountain, the success of the quest would depend entirely on him!

Bilbo never planned to reach the mountain.

Oh dear, oh dear.

"Well, I'm afraid I have to agree with, Master Baggins," Balin started, giving Bilbo an apologetic look. "He's hardly burglar material."

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." Dwalin gave a particularly disgusted look at Bilbo's whole being.

"Oi! I think Master Boggins is just fine!" Kili tried to defend him, bless the lad.

All sorts of arguments broke out amongst the dwarrows. Only Thorin didn't join in, opting instead to give Bilbo an undecipherable look.

Oh no. They were planning not to take him at all! Bilbo wrung his hands. Of course, his uselessness would be his bane. He must do something. This is his only chance to die out there in the wild!

Before he could thoroughly think things through, he spoke out amidst the dispute, "Um, excuse me. Excuse me!" All head spun to him, and all the quarrelling was silenced. Bilbo cleared his throat, pushing down the nerves threatening to overwhelm him at such scrutinizing gazes. "I—I may not be a b-burglar but hobbits are incredibly light on their feet. Given, well, their size, we can, if we choose to, walk unseen and unheard by most." There, that was convincing enough.

"And," Gandalf looked approvingly at Bilbo. "While a dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of the hobbit is all but unknown to him which gives us a distinct advantage."

Bilbo nodded vigorously at Gandalf's words, looking around the Company. Some were seemingly convinced by the logic behind the words while most appeared doubtful still.

To Thorin, the wizard said, "You asked me to find the 14th member of this Company, and I have chosen Bilbo." With a nod to the hobbit, he continued, "There's a lot to him than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know."

Well, Bilbo doubted the last part because he certainly was as soft and as weak as he appeared. But as if the wizard could read his mind, Gandalf added shrewdly, "Including himself.

Most of the dwarves were swayed, looking at Bilbo with less scrutiny and more curiosity. Trust the wizard to find the right words. However, Thorin seemed hesitant still, deliberating for a few moments. Bilbo chewed his bottom lip, praying to Yavanna that the leader of the Company allow him to join.

Gandalf leaned towards the dwarf, meeting his gaze, and said, "You must trust me on this."

Thorin contemplated for a second longer, giving the hobbit a skeptical look, but gave in eventually. "Very well. We will do it your way." To Balin, he said, "Give him the contract."

Bilbo audibly sighed in relief. Good, good. He was to join the quest as a burglar—wait a moment!

Balin pulled out a folded scrap of parchment and handed it to the hobbit. "It's just the usual. Summary of out-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements and so forth."

Bilbo mechanically reached for the contract. Funeral arrangements? Good to know Bilbo's body wouldn't just be left to the wolves of the wild.

"Eat your food," Bilbo muttered, absently patting Thorin on the shoulder. In the background, several snickers were heard.

The hobbit opened up the parchment, moving to an area with better lighting so he may read it. He was a sensible Baggins, after all. Although he had already agreed to go, he wouldn't sign anything he didn't thoroughly analyzed.

"Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one-fourteenth of total profit, if any." Not that Bilbo was going to get any. Oh, he hoped the dwarrows succeed, though he preferred to be long dead before that happened.

"Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as thereof, including, but not limited lacerations," Bilbo's eyes lit up, finding part of the contract he aimed to encounter. Laceration from whom, he wondered? "Evisceration" _Sounds painful_, Bilbo though with slight wince. _I do wish it's followed by a quick death_. "Incineration."

"Aye." The cheerful hatted fellow—Bofur, was it?—replied with glee. "He'll melt the flesh off yer bones in the blink of an eye."

"Truly?" Bilbo turned his face away from the dwarves so they couldn't see the smile climbing onto his face. Being killed by a dragon. . . The flame would burn off his skin, would probably be excruciating but oh, the blissful darkness and relief that followed with be completely worth. Just the thought of it made his heart beat faster in anticipation.

"You alright, laddie?" Balin's amused voice filtered into his morbid thoughts.

"Yes, yes, quite fine." Bilbo tried to hide the smile from his voice.

"Think furnace with wings." Bofur seemed to be a dwarf with a mission. Though what that mission's goal was, Bilbo wasn't quite sure. "Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! Yer nothing more than a pile of ash."

Still, the dwarf was feeding Bilbo's imagination. The hobbit pondered about what he'll see at the end of the dragon's flame. It must be a sight, all those flames dancing towards you to take you away into a heavenly and painless existence. Should Bilbo, by some miracle, reach the mountain, his demise would be most assured. He would be the one facing the dragon and tasting its fire, after all.

By every word, Bilbo was sure that joining this adventure was his best idea yet.

Bilbo spun on his heel to fetch a quill from inside a cabinet. There was no need to read the whole contract after all. Getting a quill, he placed the parchment on the dining table again.

"I sign here, yes?" Bilbo pointed at the blank space at the end of the contract, just below 'Witnessed: Balin, son of Fundin' and beside 'Burglar:'

"A-Aye," someone answered.

"A . . . Are ye sure yer a'right, lad?" A concerned voice asked. "Ye didn't knock a few screws loose at yer fall earlier, did you?"

Bilbo looked up at Bofur. The hobbit noticed he was humming to himself and promptly stopped. "Yes, quite fine. Why do you ask?"

The hobbit blinked confusedly at the anxious looks the hatted dwarf was shooting him. It was then that Bilbo realized that everything was still and silent; all eyes in the room were on him. Most of dwarrows mirrored Bofur's expression. Others were giving him suspicious looks, two of which were Gandalf and Thorin themselves.

"Is there something wrong?" Bilbo frowned. And promptly understood his mistake. He had been grinning ear-to-ear, being unable to control his mirth. It was definitely a sight most would find suspicious, especially when they were talking about a fearsome dragon.

"This quest is no child's play, Hobbit," Thorin's voice was quiet but no less earthshaking in its accusation and fury.

Bilbo chanced a glance at the dwarven leader. The hobbit had never seen such a look of utter disgust and condescension directed at him. Bilbo stiffened, chest aching with sudden and inexplicable _hurt_. The other hobbits' repulsion, Bilbo could perhaps understand. They had known him his whole life, and knew Bilbo well enough to declare him inadequate. What had he done to Thorin for the dwarf to treat him such after less than a day of knowing him?

He released a shaky breath. He met Thorin's angry gaze head-on and calmly explained, "I do not mean to mock your quest. I am simply . . . eager to get out of the Shire."

Thorin's eyes narrowed. "This is not a vacation. It is journey wrought with danger, borne from nature and evil creatures alike." Oh, Bilbo knew those facts very well. He was hoping for it. "I cannot guarantee your safety." Bilbo sincerely hoped not! "Nor will I be responsible for your fate."

Gandalf shot Thorin a stern look but said nothing. The other dwarrows were watching the scene with bated breath, glancing back and forth between the hobbit and their leader.

"Master Oakenshield," Bilbo interjected before the conversation devolved any more than it had to. "Rest assured that I expect _nothing_ from you except to allow me in this adventure." After a beat, Bilbo decided to add, "The moment I become a burden to the Company, you can leave me behind wherever you deem it." After all, Bilbo didn't want to hinder the Company from their goal. He was already selfishly going on the quest with no intention of living halfway to their destination.

"Bilbo!" Gandalf exclaimed, aghast.

"What?" Bilbo blinked confusedly at the wizard.

Thorin's eyes had widened with surprise mixed with disbelief. The rest of the older dwarrows' expressions were much the same.

"I'm sure it won't come to that, laddie," Balin said with a reassuring smile.

"And no one would be left behind, Bilbo," Gandalf said, voice determined. "I will make sure of it."

"Yeah, Master Boggins!" Fili piped up.

"I bet you'll make a great cook!" Kili followed. "The stuff you prepared was delicious."

Bilbo's lips curled into a genuine smile before he could help it. "Thank you." The hobbit would certainly be glad if he could be of some use.

He brought his gaze back to Thorin. "Do we understand each other, Master Oakenshield?"

The dwarf's stare seemed less hostile this time around. He nodded curtly and gestured at the contract. "Sign it then, Burglar."

_Finally_, Bilbo thought. He placed his name on the contract with a flourish. Holding it up into the light, Bilbo felt a giddy lightness in his chest; a weight he didn't even know he was carrying was suddenly gone.

Finally, he would meet his doom.

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**A/N**: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm really sleepy.

Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


	6. (Suicidal) Singing

**WARNING/S**: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression, crack-ish

**A/N:** Well, I thought about the SLASH pairing and . . . hmm, it'll probably have a very SLOWBURN Thorin/Bilbo. OH, THE OPPORTUNITIES! THE ANGST! THE CRACK! If you have watched the last Hobbit movie, you'll know what I'm talking about. Oh god, that movie killed me.

Anyway, Bilbo will bromance everyone so it's pretty much Bilbo/everyone harem, with Thilbo as the main pairing. Note that Bagginshield is not just the main focus though. I will also be developing Bilbo's relationship with the other dwarves (and elves. and Men). So yeah, toodles to y'all who don't like Thilbo ~. Happy readings!

**DISCLAIMER: **Me no own Hobbit. Me just have fun

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"Everything appears to be in order," Balin said after looking closely at the hobbit's signature. He gave Bilbo a genial smile. "Welcome, Bilbo, to the Company of Thorin Oakneshield."

A small wave of cheers went through the room. Bilbo himself smile; part of it because of the dwarrows' misplaced enthusiasm of little old him joining the quest while another part was because it was finally official—he was going to die.

And, of course, that's when mandatory back-slapping started. Bilbo was just glad his spine didn't break after that.

"If you're finished eating," Bilbo started, rubbing the back of his shoulders. "Come."

Bilbo led the dwarrows into the drawing room.

Lighting up the fireplace, he said to them, "I apologize but I haven't prepared the rooms yet." He arranged the logs to better feed the fire. "It'll just be two hours at most. You can all stay here in the meantime."

"I'll help!"

Bilbo turned around to see one of the younger dwarrows raising a hand, a small shy smile on his lips.

The hobbit shook his head. "Oh no, no, no. I can't let my guests—"

"But it'll be quicker with more hands, wouldn't it, Master Hobbit?" a dwarf with gray locks and several intricate but neat braids on his hair.

The Baggins in Bilbo was vehemently against the very idea of letting his guests do anything.

Still, a few minutes later, Bilbo found himself with a handful of dwarven helpers. It seemed the stubbornness of dwarrows rival that of Tooks. With the unique quirks of each dwarf, Bilbo was finally able to put names to their faces.

Bofur, the morbidly cheerful dwarf, the hobbit already knew. There was shy Ori, one of the youngest of the dwarrows, who was actually the scribe of the Company. Ori's older brother, Dori, was fussy in mannerisms that if it weren't for his beard, he would be mistaken as a hobbit. Safe to say, Dori was extremely overprotective of young Ori. Gloin was a husband and a father who apparently never got tired of narrating anecdotes about his family. He was then adept at any kind of chore. Surprisingly, Fili and Kili volunteered to join arranging the rooms.

The seven of them decided to pair up to delegate the workload. Because Fili and Kili couldn't be separated, Bilbo worked with one of the rooms together with them.

"Ama always makes us take care of our own beds," Fili shared as he dusted a blue blanket.

"Lest she'll give us an earful about," Kili added, bringing out the pillows from the cabinets. "Almost miss dinner because of her lectures."

"Ama?" Bilbo inquired, sweeping the floor clean of dust.

"Our mother," Fili replied with a smile. "Lady Dis, son of Thrain, granddaughter of Thror."

Bilbo gave a thoughtful hum. He then froze as the last statement sank in. "S-Son of Thrain? Wasn't Master Oakenshield's . . .?"

Kili laughed at Bilbo's wide-eyed expression. "Aye. We are Uncle Thorin's sister-sons. Or nephews, as is the usual term."

"Oh," was all Bilbo could reply with. Without his brain's explicit permission, his mouth opened and said, "I hope you are not directionally-challenged as well."

Fili's and Kili's howls of laughter echoed loudly throughout Bag End. Bilbo flushed.

"W-Well, it's true. He said he got lost twice," Bilbo said defensively.

"Oh, Mahal," A few snickers escaped Kili's mouth. "I would love to see Uncle's expression when I tell him about this, Master Boggins."

"Please, don't tell your uncle. He'll dismember me." While Bilbo was excited at the thought of death, he would like to get out of his front door at the very least. "And if you can't even call me properly by my last name, just call me Bilbo." The hobbit was getting tired of correcting the brothers.

Fili and Kili grinned. "Call us Fili," the flaxen-haired dwarf started.

"And Kili then!" Kili finished, bowing with a flourish.

Bilbo stared at the brothers, pausing in smoothing the duvet covers. "Were you purposely mispronouncing Baggins just so I could give you my first name?"

All Bilbo received were twin smiles of mischief.

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Half-an-hour later, all the chambers were livable, if Bilbo might say himself. In the end, he was glad for all the help because it had been a long day; he got tired not ten minutes after starting. Bilbo didn't know where he would have gotten the energy to finish by himself.

"The rooms are prepared," he informed the dwarrows in the drawing room, running a hand through his curls. Smoking on their pipes, the dwarrows lay scattered throughout the room. "There are four bedrooms so I'm afraid some of you'll have to share." He said before stifling a yawn behind his hand.

"Thank you, Bilbo," Balin, sitting in one of the cushy armchairs, gave the hobbit a grateful nod.

To Bilbo's surprise, Thorin, who was brooding by the fireplace, suddenly spoke up. "Get some rest, Burglar." Smoke curled out of his lips, averted eyes reflecting the light of the fire. "We leave at dawn."

Bilbo wanted to ask if Thorin tried hard to act like a mysterious majestic figure or if it just came naturally to him. Unfortunately, he was much too tired for any other interaction with anyone alive. So, he just nodded at the dwarrows and headed to his bedroom.

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Bilbo sat atop his bed with a sigh of relief, already in his nightclothes. He fluffed up his pillow, contemplating about the happenings of the day.

Just this morning, he was a normal hobbit planning to content himself with a normal death. And now, he was part of a very dangerous adventure that would not only ensure his demise but do it in such a way no hobbit had done it. Bilbo felt a ball of giddiness rumbling in his chest. Oh, he hoped his death would be a truly exciting one!

A deep-throated humming shook the floors of his bedroom. Bilbo blinked, listening to several voices synchronizing into one somber but melodic tune.

"_δ ~ __Far over the misty mountains cold ~ __δ ~ __"_

"Oh, that's very nice," Bilbo couldn't help but mutter, closing his eyes.

The song narrated the tragedy of how the dwarves lost their home to the terrible dragon; there was a sense of nostalgia, grief, and longing mixed in the low tunes of their voices. The hobbit felt their homesickness keenly—can even relate to it. Nothing ever really felt like home since his parents died.

Bilbo laid down on the bed, the music swirling around him like warm embraces of parents to their children. Every word weighed down heavily in his very bones—in his very soul. His chest _ache_ fiercely from a feeling he knew not. The hobbit welcomed it all, preferring the painful sensations instead of the numbness he was used to feeling.

The dwarrows' voices were harmonizing beautifully. Oh, the song was very lovely indeed.

Before he knew it, Bilbo was lulled into a dreamless sleep.

"_δ ~ __The fire was red, it flaming spread ~ __δ ~__ The trees like torches, blazed with light ~ __δ ~__"_

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Bilbo woke up the next morning wanting to do absolutely _nothing_.

"Oh dear," Bilbo moaned, placing a forearm on his forehead.

He assumed that the notion of an approaching doom would stave off his lethargy for at least a few days. After all, he only had a few days left to live! It had been less than two days, and yet here it was, preventing Bilbo from even getting up from the bed.

His limbs felt like lead, refusing to obey his commands. His mind was clear enough but he lacked the urge to even do anything. He blankly stared at the cracks of the ceiling, the soft light of the approaching dawn making everything surreal.

He still had to pack and still had to send out his letters. He needed to prepare breakfast for the thirteen dwarrows. Oh, Eru. He had so many things to do! And each second he spent just lazily laying around would be a minute delay in their journey. Or they would leave Bilbo behind.

The thought encouraged him to sit up at least. He closed his eyes, trying to get his mind to work. He imagined the steep cliffs they would be walking, the nasty blade-ends of the goblins, the fast-flowing rivers of the wild, the recklessness of the dwarrows in the Company when handling their weapons, and many more scenarios. The sluggishness of his limbs decreased a bit at the notions.

"Just a few more days, Bilbo," The hobbit murmured softly to himself. "And everything would be gone." No more empty aches in his chest, no more judgmental looks, no more burdening others with his existence, and most especially, no more pretending that every breath he took wasn't weighing down on his soul.

He got to his feet, and stretched. Lethargy was tempting him to just lay in bed all day, as he always had done whenever he was feeling particularly useless. But Bilbo determinedly shook it off.

He had work to do.

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Thankfully, Bilbo didn't need to pack much.

He didn't have any clothes suited for travelling so he just brought the first few waistcoats, trousers, and tunics he could get his hands on. His pipe and all the Old Toby he had, of course, went to the pockets of his satchel. All the coins he had saved up amounted to a big fat pouch; he put half in different parts of his bag and the other half was in a sack tied around his belt. He looked around his bedroom, looking for anything else to pack, when his gaze landed on an upturned frame by his nightstand.

Bilbo righted the frame and realized it was a portrait of his parents. He hadn't seen it in years. He traced the laugh lines in his mother's face and the crow's feet by his father's eyes. He stared fondly at the smiles on their faces, eyeing each other sideways as if sharing some great secret. Once upon a time, an overwhelming sense of loneliness welled up inside him whenever he saw paintings of his parents. They reminded him that the people who truly cared for him were long gone. Now, surprisingly, all Bilbo could feel was a great sense of relief and hope.

_I'll see you again, Mother, Father. Soon_.

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"Food~" was Fili's first greeting as he stumbled into the kitchen. His braids were undone and his hair was in a golden disarray.

"Hungry~" followed Kili, dark hair in the same messy state as his brother's.

Bilbo glanced up from frying the eggs and bacons. "I'm almost done here. Would you two be a dear and set up the table?" His voice was barely above hearing range, hoarse and timid as it was whenever he didn't want to talk to anyone. Still, he would have to endure. "You would get your food a lot quicker." He decided to give the boys additional incentive.

The brothers nodded vigorously, swiftly grabbed several utensils and plates, and practically ran to the dining room. Bilbo couldn't help but give a small smile at their enthusiasm. He hoped he could be as energetic. Various clatters resounded from the dining room as Fili and Kili set about their errand.

It wasn't long before the other dwarrows' came filtering down from their rooms, attracted by the waft of delicious breakfast. Their hair were in all sorts of chaos but they didn't seem to mind, opting instead to prioritize breakfast.

"I will help you, Master Baggins."

Bilbo turned to see a big red-headed dwarf marching in the doorframe. "Oh, no, no. No need. I can do it by myself."

"Nonsense," the dwarf waved off, snatching a kitchen knife and a chopping block. "I am the cook in this quest and I will not be usurp in my role."

Bilbo's eyes widened. "I'm sorry! I didn't know—What Kili said last night—"

The dwarf gave a hearty laugh at the hobbit's flustered face. "I jest, Master Baggins. I would need all the help I can get to feed this lot, especially since," Here, the dwarf patted his own rounded stomach. "I eat twice as much as these dwarrows combined!"

Bilbo smiled, mood lifting slightly. "I'll be happy to help, Mister . . .?"

"Bombur. Just Bombur, mind. None of that Mister stuff." The dwarf replied, already chopping the vegetables Bilbo needed for the stew.

"Then you may just call me Bilbo." Bilbo returned.

"Very well, Bilbo," Bombur said, grinning. "Now, let's get these lot fed so we can be on our way."

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Breakfast, though not as raucous as the dinner the night before, was still quite a merry affair. Foodstuff flew everywhere and at every face, except at Gandalf's and Thorin's. Gandalf probably used magic to prevent any food stains and Thorin perhaps used his sour expression to scare the food away.

Bilbo reticently stayed in one corner of the room, far away from all the chaos. He was too tired for this kind of behavior far early in the morning. Fortunately, none of the dwarrows' noticed that the hobbit hadn't said a word throughout the morning. Unfortunately, a certain wizard did.

"Come, Bilbo. Join us," Gandalf gestured him closer. "What are you doing there? Are you not hungry?"

Bilbo shook his head. Even though he barely ate the night before, he wasn't terribly hungry. It was truly one of those days when Bilbo would starve himself because he neither had the inclination to cook nor the appetite to eat. Only the thought of the dwarrows' hunger and the journey ahead forced him to do anything that morning.

"I'm not really hungry, Gandalf," he said honestly. "I should go pack the rest of the food anyway." Bilbo gave the wizard one last reassuring smile before slipping out of the dining room.

A certain dwarven leader and wizard exchanged suspicious looks but said nothing more.

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**A/N**: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm really sleepy.

P.S. The giving of first names signifies that a road to friendship is open. If you give your first name but it isn't reciprocated, it means you have yet to earn their trust and so, they're not ready to be friends with you yet.

Yup, sorry for breaking my promise. Next time, they're really leaving Bag End!

Lethargy or sleepiness and loss of appetite is actually a symptom most prevalent among the clinically depressed. So, yeah, had to insert that . . .

Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


	7. (Suicidal) Leaving

**WARNING/S**: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression, crack-ish, Lobelia Sackville Baggins

**A/N:** OMG, thanks for all the favorites, follows, bookmarks, (over a hundred!) kudos. What the hell is it in this story that's attracting you wonderful people? Whatever it is, you guys made my day with all your comments!

Special thanks to **ladysassafras **for sharing your insight! You describe the Bilbo I truly want to express and I can't believe you got it spot-on! I really do hope I do his characterization justice in the next chapters.

**DISCLAIMER: **The Hobbit is not mine. I am not a 100+ year-old male genius. Nor am I an awesome director with initials PJ

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While the dwarrows were eating, Bilbo packed the rest of his stuff away and the rest of the food in the second pantry. It was an hour later that Bilbo learned a most disturbing fact.

"Ponies?" Bilbo squeaked out. "We will be riding ponies?"

"What, did ye think we would walk all the way?" Dwalin snorted, strapping his axes on his back. "Aye, we'll be riding ponies. We'll be buying 'em when we pass by Bree."

"Of course," Bilbo murmured, sighing in resignation. He should have expected it, truly, with the day he was having. He hoped he quickly adapt to riding because being trampled by ponies wasn't on his list of glorious deaths.

The hobbit gave the dwarf his share of the food for the first day of the journey, as Bilbo already did with the other dwarrows. The gruff dwarf accepted the wrapped meat and stuffed it in his trouser pocket.

"Thank ye, lad." Dwalin grunted before striding out of Bag End.

Bilbo hitched his pack higher up his shoulder and followed after. The other dwarrows plus a wizard were milling outside; the younger ones were chatting happily with each other while the older ones were waiting in silence. Bilbo noticed some of the hobbits peeking out of their windows, staring aghast at the dwarrows that dare disturb the peace.

Bilbo, knowing it was his last chance, waved as enthusiastically as he can to his neighbors. Most of the hobbits glared viciously at him and aggressively pulled down their curtains. Bilbo, used to it, didn't feel at all saddened or angry at their actions.

He was just locking up the door when he felt someone sidled next to him.

"Yer neighbors didn't look too excited to see ye," Bofur said, glancing wide-eyed around the neighborhood.

Bilbo shrugged as he turned around to face the dwarf. "Most hobbits are wary of outsiders and of hobbits who cater to them. To them, other races disturb the peace, you see." They dislike Bilbo purely because he appeared like an outsider to most, not acting like a proper hobbit at times.

Bofur blinked as he processed this before shooting Bilbo a worried look. "Ye won't get into trouble with yer neighbors for letting us stay, won't ye?"

Again, the hobbit shrugged nonchalantly, walking towards his mailbox. "No more than I usually am," he answered. It didn't matter anyway. He certainly wasn't going to come back.

The hobbit was facing away so he didn't see the bewildered frown upon Bofur's face.

He fished his letters from his satchel and placed the keys of Bag End inside the envelope to be sent to Drogo. He put all of them inside the mailbox, raising the red flag to signal the postman that he had some mail needed to be sent.

"What was that then?" Kili asked as Bilbo and Bofur approached the group.

"Someone needs to take care of Bag End when I'm gone." Bilbo replied, seeing no harm in letting the young dwarf know. It was normal to have a last will prepared, right? Especially on such a risky quest as this . . .

"When?" Gloin's eyes were wide. "Are you not planning to come back, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo went over his statement, and hurriedly amended. "I-I meant while! While I'm gone . . . Of course I'm coming back. Bag End's my home." Bilbo hoped no one heard the lies in his voice.

"Time's awasting." Thorin loud gruff voice broke though all conversation. "If you have taken care of your businesses, Burglar, then we shall go." Without even waiting for a response, the dwarf went ahead and marching away.

The others complied, all just a few steps behind their leader. The ensuing conversations were much subdued than before. Bilbo walked in step with Fili and Kili, the only dwarrows he was truly comfortable with.

Mind listless still and lacking his brain-to-mouth filter, he asked the brothers. "Do you really think it wise for your uncle lead the way?"

Instead of laughing, however, the brothers frowned thoughtfully. They exchanged glances, communicating purely through their eyes.

"You know, you're probably right, Bilbo," Fili said. He lifted his head and called out, "Balin!"

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They walked through the Shire with Balin leading them towards Bree. Half-an-hour into their walk, a loud indignant shout of "Bilbo!" halted their steps.

Everyone turned to the source of the call except for Bilbo. Even the nearby hobbits who were out smoking or tending to their garden stopped and looked. The hobbit merely closed his eyes in pain as he recognized the shrill voice. After a gathering his courage and the little bit of patience he had, he turned to meet the gaze of a furious Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. The hobbit woman stomped towards him with narrowed gaze, stopping just a few feet away.

"Good morning, Lobelia," Bilbo greeted, not even bothering to smile. It was too early in the morning to be dealing with this harpy. Actually, any other time was too early to be dealing with this irritating hobbit.

"Where do you think you're going with those dwarves?" Lobelia rudely pointed at the Company with her flower-patterned umbrella. "You're not out to do something that will dishonor the Baggins name, are you?"

"Of course not," Bilbo said, knowing what would happen next was be inevitable. "I'm just going on an adventure. You see—"

Lobelia squawked like an enraged pigeon. "An adventure!" Her expression twisted into an ugly sneer. "Why you sniveling unworthy mongrel! Of all the disgrace!" Bilbo merely raised an unimpressed brow at the insults. Eru, Lobelia was really off her game today; she wasn't even mentioning his parents! "A Baggins! Going on an adventure! With a bunch of rowdy hairy dwarves! Who would have heard of such a thing? Bag End should have gone to us!" The 'Bag End belongs to us' argument again? "Not to such ungrateful dishonorable —"

"Miss Lobelia," Gandalf cut off, face thunderous. Lobelia's mouth shut with a click. "To think you grow up to be such an impolite lass who has nothing better to do than to hinder our very important quest!" The wizard all but shouted, stepping in front of Bilbo. "I have half a mind to turn you into a toad for your bigotry."

Lobelia's eyes widened, eyeing the staff in Gandalf's hand. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, speechless for the first time Bilbo had known her. Meanwhile, Bilbo himself was looking up at Gandalf with awe and no little amount of gratitude. No one had ever defended him before; he always had to do it for himself.

With one last glare at the hobbit lass, Gandalf turned to the Company and said, "Come along. We must not delay any further lest my temper get the best of me."

One by one, they started walking again, leaving a stunned Sackville-Baggins behind. Several hobbits were stifling a laugh behind their hands. They never thought to see the day Lobelia would be thoroughly humiliated.

"Don't worry, cousin," Bilbo nodded at the woman. "I left something for you should I perish in this adventure of mine." More like _when_ he perished.

Lobelia's eyes lit up and malicious grin appeared on her face. "Then I hope you fall off a cliff, Bilbo," she replied, only loud enough for Bilbo to hear. It seemed she was still afraid of the wizard.

"Thank you, Lobelia," Bilbo smiled, meaning it. He'll be thankful of anyone who wished him death.

With that, Bilbo hurried to join the Company, never once looking back. He caught up with Fili and Kili, who seemed to have heard their little conversation.

"What did you leave her?" Fili asked, throwing an acidic glance behind them. "Surely nothing of importance?"

"Nothing," Bilbo replied, smiling. "A great big pile of nothing. I actually specified that in my will."

The brothers guffawed. "Thank Mahal. We may yet make a prankster out of you, Bilbo!"

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They bought sixteen ponies and one horse in total in Bree. Bilbo was staring helplessly and warily at the ponies.

"Come along, Bilbo," Gandalf said with a reassuring smile, mounting his enormous horse.

A dark-haired dwarf with a . . . rather alarming _axe _imbedded in his skull slap Bilbo's back, muttering cheerfully in an unfamiliar guttural language. The dwarf himself climbed up a pony, gesturing at Bilbo's ride. The hobbit blinked in puzzlement, not understanding a single word.

"Quite right, Bifur," Dori replied, holding the reigns of his pony. "These horses are properly tamed, Master Baggins. No need to worry."

"Thank you for the assurance, Mister Bifur, Mister Dori," The hobbit stared warily at the steed assigned to him. "But I'm sure I can keep up on foot, really. I've done my fair share of—Ah!" Bilbo ended with a yelp as both Fili and Kili lifted him up by his waistcoat and placed him on the saddle.

"There, Bilbo. Wasn't so bad, was it?" The brothers grinned.

The hobbit gave them half-hearted glares before adjusting his position into a more comfortable one. However, no matter which way he turned, his legs were stretched uncomfortably and the saddle was awkwardly pressing against his backside. Bilbo sighed, resigning himself to the riding sores he'll have by the end of the day.

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They rode in a slow relaxed pace that day, which Bilbo was extremely thankful for. They journeyed through picturesque green fields and hills, trees twice as tall as Gandalf. Although the sun was beating harshly upon their backs, the cool breeze prevented them from getting uncomfortably hot. Bilbo stared dreamily at it all, never been this far out of the Shire.

Conversations started here and there but were practically sparse compared to the boisterousness of the dwarrows back in Bag End. Still, Bilbo steered clear of any interaction with them. He really wasn't in the mood for it.

Sadly, some of the dwarrows didn't seem to get the memo.

"Master Baggins," Dori pulled up his pony next to Bilbo's. "I couldn't help but notice that you had such lovely doilies back in your home."

Bilbo perked up, looking at Dori with surprise. "Y-Yes, they are beautiful, aren't they?" Before he could help it, his lips curled into a warm smile. "They're my mother's actually."

The dwarf smiled, nodding. "Of course, a woman with fine taste. What about the tea? I myself have a fondness towards chamomile. But the one that you have in your home have a particularly delightful tang." Dori's eyes lit up as he recalled the taste.

"Earl Gray," Bilbo replied, mood lifting greatly. "My father was very picky about tea, you see. He wouldn't settle for anything but the best. So we had—Achoo!" Bilbo ended with a chest-aching sneeze.

"Oh dear, you're not coming down with a cold, are you?" Dori asked, a hint of worry in his question.

Bilbo sniffled, wiggling his nose and feeling like a thousand little needles was trying to get through his nose. "No, no—Achoo! It's the horse hair, I'm afraid." The hobbit rummaged through his trouser pocket. He blinked, a foreboding thought niggling at the back of his mind. He checked his coat pockets. "Oh no," he muttered with outmost horror when his hands came up empty.

"What's the matter, Master Hobbit?" Bofur, who was riding right in front of the hobbit, turned with an inquiring brow.

"I forgot my handkerchief." No hobbit had gone anywhere without his handkerchief before! Bilbo groaned. In his excitement, he forgot to pack at least one. Allergies were common among hobbits; Bilbo, fortunately, had only a horse hair one that could be resolved rather quickly and easily. Now, only if he had some damn handkerchiefs.

Next thing Bilbo knew, there was a tearing sound in the air. Bofur chirped a "Use this," before a brown cloth was flying towards Bilbo. The hobbit caught it before it could smack him in the face. The fabric was heavy, made of wool and cotton.

It was worn but surprisingly clean, despite its appearances. Although it was a poor substitute for his intricately sewn and soft handkerchiefs, Bilbo appreciated the thought nonetheless, especially since the dwarf appeared to have ripped it out of his own clothing. "Thank you, Mister Bofur."

The hatted dwarf grinned and nodded before gazing back to the front. With a sort-of handkerchief, Bilbo happily went back to his conversation with Dori, allergies solved.

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**A/N**: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English ay hindi ang wikang kinagisnan ko ;)).

So yeah, nothing much happens in this chappie except bonding times. Next up, arguments break out amongst the Company ('cause, as **LovesDragons **said, they're not all friends yet) and Bilbo learns that orcs are included in the adventure!

Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


	8. (Suicidal) Stories

**WARNING/S**: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression, crack-ish

**A/N:** Thank you very much for the constructive critcisms! I tried to improve my grammar in this chapter but I don't know how it turned out, really.

Thanks for all the comments, favorites, follows (WTF, a hundred!) and kudos! I'm not ashamed to say that those things have inspired me to keep writing!

Well, as **RoseJustice** pointed out, you may have noticed that my chapters are a bit on the short side. Actually, I'm a really slow writer. So I allot about 2 000 words per chapter so that I could pace myself. It's psychological, you see. Whenever I'm feeling lazy, I look at the word count and say, "Just a few more words and you have another chapter!"

**DISCLAIMER: **The Hobbit is not mine. I am not a 100+ year-old male genius. Nor am I an awesome director with initials PJ

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For hours, Bilbo and Dori talked about all sorts of things; from the architecture of Bag End to the fabric of the hobbit's best waistcoat. Throughout it all, Bilbo realized that Dori was indeed a hobbit in dwarf skin. They would talk about crochet, good books, comfy armchairs, flower language, and tasteful wines. When they reached the subject of cooking, Bombur joined the talks. The three of them gladly exchanged recipes, discussing the best way to cook lambs, chicken, and pork.

Inevitably, the topic of family came up in their conversation.

"Aye! I have a lovely wife waiting for me in Ered Luin," Bombur cheerfully informed them. "She is as beautiful as the diamonds she cuts."

"All I have are my brothers," Dori interjected. His expression set into a disapproving frown. "Although one of them gives great shame to our family name."

"Brothers? You have other siblings other than Ori?" Bilbo asked, curious.

"Aye," the incensed voice of a dwarf behind them interrupted, braided eyebrows raised condescendingly. "But he's embarrassed of me just because I do whatever's necessary to put food on the table."

"Stealing things is in no way honorable, Nori!" Dori spat, pointing at the dwarf. "We had enough money without you doing something ghastly!"

"Oh?" the dwarf pulled his pony near Dori's, eyes burning with barely contained fury. "And maybe that's the reason why Ori needed to work in the library instead of studying? Because we had _enough _money?"

Dori's nostrils flared. "If you had been working a proper livelihood, Ori wouldn't have to do so! You are remiss in your duties as a brother."

Bilbo watched with wide eyes as the brothers squabbled. Ori was behind them, sighing with exasperation at their antics. No one else was shocked so their arguments must have been a daily occurrence. But Bilbo was very alarmed at the sight. Dori and his brother were practically coming to blows! They spat viciously at each other, faces were twisted in anger and evident hurt.

"Sorry about them, Master Baggins," Ori said apologetically, shaking his head. "They're always like this." Sadness colored the young dwarf's tone as he stared at his bickering brothers.

Curiosity nagged the back of Bilbo's mind. "If . . . If you don't mind me asking, what exactly are they arguing about?"

Ori shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it although everyone could see how dismayed he was by it all. "The usual. Nori's a thief by trade, you see. He gets into all sorts of trouble. Dori, of course, wants nothing to do with it. And consequently, with Nori himself." In a lowered voice, Ori muttered with a frown. "Even though Nori's tactics often helped us when we're in a pinch."

A thief? There was already a thief in the Company? Then, why . . . A thought came to Bilbo's mind and he planned to ask Nori about it at the next possible chance.

"A'right, knock't off, ye two," Dwalin growled, getting between the brothers. He threw each of them a warning glance. "I've had enough of yer jabbering. Resolve your own issues out of my hearing." Side-eyeing Nori, Dwalin added in a patronizing tone, "If ye ask me, nothing a dastardly _thief_ say could prove enough defense for his treacherous ways."

Nori's grip onto his reins tightened until his knuckles were white. "It's a good thing no one asked you then, _mênu shar_!" The dwarf practically shouted.

Dwalin's face was equally thunderous. "Why you—"

"Kili! Fili!" Thorin barked, unknowingly (or perhaps knowingly?) cutting of the pair's argument. "Scout ahead. Find a suitable camping ground."

"Yes, Uncle!" they replied in unison, which still amazed Bilbo because how in Eru's name do they do that? Did they practice all possible scenarios in their free time?

The brothers both gave Bilbo a hearty clap on the back before forging ahead of the Company.

Bilbo looked up at the darkening sky, stars hesitantly twinkling amongst the clouds. The sun was setting behind them, casting a beautiful orange glow upon the surroundings. Bilbo listened for the peaceful sound of birds chirping, leaves brushing against each other, and some crickets already playing their harmony.

It was a serene day with no evident signs of danger.

Bilbo sighed. _Not today, then._

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They camped near an edge cliff wherein they were surrounded by cliff sides on two sides, a rock outcropping on one, and a dense forest on the other.

"It's perfect. Less flanks to defend from a night raid," Kili had explained.

The hobbit thought it was also less ground to stand by if ever they're attacked. But Bilbo simply nodded, gingerly placing down the logs he was tasked to gather.

"Master Baggins." The hobbit turned to the owner of the voice, who was the dwarf with an ear trumpet. The dwarf held out a bottle full of a gray viscous liquid. "It's your first time riding, isn't it, lad?"

"Y-Yes, it is." Bilbo accepted the jar, looking at it questioningly. His whole body ached from the incessant rocking of the pony. The saddle had dug into his skin throughout, leaving red rashes. He couldn't fully bend his legs since, and gathering firewood had been harder than it was.

"It's a salve for sore muscles. Just apply it every night until you get use to riding." The dwarf explained. "Ask me for more if you run out."

"Oh, t-thank you," Bilbo replied, heartened. Before the hobbit could ask for his name—because really, Bilbo couldn't remember all thirteen names in an instant, could he?—the dwarf already strode away to tend to the other dwarrows.

Bilbo was just left staring at the salve with a small smile.

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Because of the bouts of lethargy he had been experiencing that day, Bilbo fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow of his sleeping bag. Although the ground was full of jutting rocks and the sleeping bag was not as comfortable as his bed back in Bag End, his fatigued body didn't care at all. He dreamt of seeing the shafts of light reflected by the waters as he drowned in the seabed, dreamt of free falling into the deep dark abyss, dreamt pushing someone out of danger and pushing himself in it, and all sorts of wonderful scenarios. He was dreaming of ravenous wolves chomping down on his torso when frightening screeches awakened him.

"Wolves?" was the first thing he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. The dancing flames casted eerie shadows upon the rock outcropping. Some were already asleep while the rest lay relaxed against the stones, smoking their pipes. His brain came awake and he realized, "Wolves don't screech like eagles."

"Orcs."

Bilbo turned around to find Fili and Kili sitting by the fire. Their expressions were grim as they stared into the distance.

"Orcs?" Bilbo went to join the brothers by the fire. He didn't know orcs were on the table. Why didn't anyone tell him?

"Throat-cutters." Bilbo's hand went to said throat. He read that cutting the throat meant drowning in your own blood. It is a most certain death, though a bit slow for Bilbo's taste. "There'll be dozens of them out there." Fili made a small gesture at the forest as if it was nothing. "The lowland's crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep," Kili added, widening his eyes in mock horror. "Quick and quiet. No screams, just lots of blood."

"Are they more vicious than goblins?" Bilbo couldn't help but ask.

"Much _much _more," Kili replied, nodding sagely.

Bilbo hummed noncommittally. Here he was, solely daydreaming about goblins when there were orcs in the package! Orcs were hardy creatures with endless amount of bloodlust in their veins. They are creatures of darkness that wrought chaos and death everywhere they go. For a moment, Bilbo selfishly hope they encounter some; to be killed by such creatures would be most glorious. He rubbed his palms when he noticed that they started trembling, unable to contain his anticipation for such event.

But no, he shan't wish for it. He wanted death but he particularly didn't want to take anyone with him. Perhaps if he left the Company to journey through the lowlands instead . . . No, no, no. He signed a contract!

Chuckling filtered through his hearing and Bilbo blinked confusedly as he realized that Fili and Kili were laughing. At him.

"We didn't mean to frighten you, Bilbo," Fili assured, mistaking the shaking of his limbs for that of fright.

Bilbo's eyes widened. "Were you jesting about the orcs?" Ooh, these boys really got his hopes up.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin's angry tone cut through their discussion. All three of them looked up to see their leader striding over them, eyes cool. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

Both Fili and Kili averted their eyes as if ashamed. "W-We didn't mean anything by it."

"No, you didn't." Thorin's expression belied barely contained rage. "You know nothing of the world," he all but spat before heading at the edge of their camp.

_Probably to brood as the wind sails through his braids_, Bilbo thought. The boys had their heads bowed, dejected in the wake of their uncle's reprimand. The hobbit was about to comfort them but Balin not beat him to it.

"Don't mind him, laddie," the elder dwarf came to their little circle around the fire. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs." Balin gave the said dwarf a sympathetic look. "After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror, Thorin's grandfather, tried to reclaim the ancient kingdom of Moria."

Balin weaved a tale of catastrophe, war, and bloodbaths. He narrated the cons of monsters and the bravery of heroes. One hero in particular, as Bilbo was to learn. Thorin, when he saw his grandfather decapitated by an orc called Azor the Defiler, rallied the dwarf's forces against the orc's. Using only an oaken branch as a shield, he fought against the cruelty of orcs with his people, thus earning the epithet 'Oakenshield'. Thorin had practically single-handedly won them the battle of Azanulbizar. Bilbo was dumb-struck with wonderment as he listened. He belatedly realized that all the dwarrows were awake, drawn in by the Balin's tale.

"And I thought to myself then, there is one I could follow," Balin's eyes glimmered in the firelight as he casted Thorin a look of outmost pride. "There is one I could call king."

All eyes were on Thorin, no small amount of respect and awe evident on their faces. Bilbo himself couldn't help but admire and envy the courage of the dwarf. Losing so much—his home, his grandfather, his father—yet still having the will to go on, the determination to reclaim his homeland . . . Bilbo could only dream he was that brave. As it was, he was willing to take the coward's way if it meant ending this long arduous existence.

The dwarven leader turned around, a majestic figure among peasants, and gave them a nod of acknowledgement. And _whoa, would you look at the timing of that hair-ruffling wind,_ went through Bilbo's mind as well.

The dwarrows didn't know it yet but that was when their loyalty to one Thorin Oakenshield was cemented.

"And the pale orc?" Bilbo inquired to Balin, curious to the fate of such malevolent creature. Surely an amputated arm did not imply assured death? "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back to the hole whence he came," Thorin answered, pacing back again into camp. Bilbo wished he would stay in one place. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Bilbo frowned. Judging by Thorin's wording, they didn't actually find a body. So what was to say the orc was truly dead? Why, Bilbo knew a hobbit once who apparently committed suicide—the first suicide in the Shire in over a century. A body was found, a funeral was held and yet, two years later, behold! He just came walking in the Shire like nothing happened. The hobbit had apparently faked his death for some reason or another. That's why Bilbo preferred not to jump off a tall structure like that hobbit; others might think his death was just another fraud.

But the battle of Moria had been over a hundred years now, hadn't it? Surely Azog would show himself to Thorin the past years, for revenge and some other troublesome nonsense, if the orc was still alive?

In the end, Bilbo merely concluded that it didn't really matter. He only had a few more days left to live after all.

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**A/N**: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English ay hindi ang wikang kinagisnan ko ;)).

OMG, why am I always picking on Thorin? Seriously though, watch some of his 'majestic' scenes and it's so funny without background music.

_mênu shar_ = you baldy

**P.S.** What? What do you mean Sherlock reference? *sweats profusely* There's no such thing here . . .

Okay, let me just explain Bilbo's hindsight. You see, the only reason why people can't view situations in 20/20 hindsight is because there are feelings involved. So, for example, they _hope_ that Azog isn't really alive so they treat Azog being dead as a true fact. However, Bilbo had no such hopes (except to die quickly and gloriously) so he can view that situation as it is, and not as he wants/hopes it to be.

Next up: Bilbo receives more of dwarf kindness. Thorin shows his good sense by camping near a rundown shack. We all know where this is going . . .

Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


	9. (Suicidal) Attempt: Trolls I

**WARNING/S**: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression, crack-ish,

**A/N:** OMG, I love hearing your insights about Bilbo's character. I still am flimsy about his characterization at times and your comments had helped solidified his character in my mind! I'll try to express him in the best of my abilities!

Thanks for all the comments, favorites, follows, and (over 200!) kudos! I'm not ashamed to say that those things have inspired me to keep writing!

**DISCLAIMER: **Bilbo Baggins is mine! *gets trampled by a million fangirls* Okay, fine, he's ours! But The Hobbit is solely Tolkien's and the movies are . . . many someone's.

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'Those few days to live', unfortunately, extended to a whole week. The Company encountered nothing remotely dangerous; well, unless you count those poisonous berries Kili decided to pick out for the Company to eat. It was most fortunate for the dwarrows that Oin, the healer who had given Bilbo the salve for his sore muscles, had swiftly identified the fruit and thrown it away.

And, of course, the rain that pelted down on them on those days.

The torrent drenched the entire Company and reduced them into a wet miserable bunch. Their supplies were thankfully placed in waterproof bags and were the least affected. The dwarrows themselves wore cloaks with hood that saved them from most of the rain and cold. Unfortunately, Bilbo had no such thing.

By the seventh day of raining he was a shivering mess, clothes sticking to him like a second skin. His real skin, meanwhile, felt like it could never be warm again. He had long since given up trying to stop the chattering of his teeth, which rocked his brain and gave him terrible headaches. He might die of pneumonia at this rate. It wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he joined this adventure but Bilbo supposed it would have to do. How long 'till the phlegm congested in his lungs, rendering him unable to breath? He once skimmed through a tome of sickness and its symptoms but he couldn't remember much.

He still had not the chance to talk to Nori. The constant rain had made everyone, especially that particular dwarf, ill-humored and short-tempered. Whenever Dori and Dwalin came less than five feet of Nori, tension in the Company would be so thick Bilbo could cut it with a bread knife. Bilbo felt like Nori wouldn't be amused at Bilbo's poor attempts at a conversation.

"Forgot to bring a cloak, did you, lad?" Gloin pulled his pony beside Bilbo's, and the hobbit could see the pity present in his gaze.

Bilbo hunched into himself, trying to steal warmth from his own body and to temper down his shivers. "I-I don't o-own a w-w-waterproof one. Hob-bbits don't t-travel far o-out of their h-h-homes, and w-we use um-umbrellas for occasions l-l-like this," Not that Bilbo brought one of those either.

Gloin chuckled. "You remind me of my boy. Never really thinking things through before doing them. Always gave my wife grief, that one." Bilbo refused to pout at being compared to a _child_. He had thought this adventure through! Less preparation just meant a quicker death so Bilbo didn't bring much. "Here," Gloin unclasped his own leather cloak, removed it from his shoulders, and held it out to Bilbo.

The hobbit's eyes widened. He shook his head. "I c-couldn't p-possibly—"

"Take it, lad," the dwarf insisted, holding it closer to Bilbo. "Dwarrows are sturdy creatures. A little rain won't hurt us," Gloin said with pride. "I would have given it to you sooner but I thought you were just being stubborn! It just occurred to me that you might have forgotten to bring one."

Giving in, Bilbo grappled with the cloak with quaking hands. He was dreadfully cold. He couldn't even feel his fingers anymore. "T-Thank you, M-Mister Gloin." It seemed he was saying that a lot to the dwarrows. They are a thoughtful bunch indeed. Bilbo didn't know why the other hobbits believed them to be rude or brash. "You are most kind."

Gloin clapped him on the back, laughing. "Think nothing of it, Master Baggins. And I have just lent you my cloak. I think you can call me by my first name."

Bilbo couldn't help but smile. "Then I g-give you m-mine too," he replied with a small bow. He laid Gloin's coat around his shoulders and placed the hood up his head. Instantly, warmth seeped to his skin like a gentle balm to wounds. His shivers diminished, becoming less chest-wracking.

Perhaps he wouldn't die of pneumonia after all.

"Master Gandalf!" Dori called out, snappish. "Can't you do something about this deluge?"

"It is raining, Mister Dori, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done," the wizard replied with a hint of annoyance.

The more Bilbo listened to Gandalf, the words seemed less like wise cryptic statements and more like stating the obvious.

Gandalf continued, "If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard."

Dori let out a longsuffering groan. Bilbo perked up, and being the curious hobbit he was, he couldn't help but say, "I didn't know there were other wizards."

"There are five of us," Gandalf decided to indulge him. "The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. Then, there are two Blue wizards . . ."

The hobbit nodded, leaning forward and listening closely. He had heard Saruman before—the white wizard was in a lot of books.

" . . . Do you know I've quite forgotten their names," Gandalf said before chuckling to himself. Apparently, being a wizard did not exempt you from going senile.

"And the fifth?" Bilbo asked, blinking droplets of rain from his eyelashes. When he opened his eyes again, he met Thorin's blue gaze, and he startled. However, he blinked again and the dwarf was talking to Dwalin. Bilbo must have imagined it.

"Well, that would be Radagast the Brown." And Gandalf proceeded to describe an eccentric wizard like himself who preferred the company of animals to anyone else. The said wizard guarded the forests of the east, probably living all alone in those vast lands with only the chirrups of bugs and squeaks of squirrels for company.

Bilbo hummed and nodded at the right times. All wizards had their own unique eccentricities, it seemed. For the sake of the dwarrows, he hoped Gandalf's were to their advantage.

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"We'll camp here for the night," Thorin said to the Company, stopping in front of a dilapidated shack.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes at structure as Thorin ordered Fili and Kili to look after ponies. Gandalf himself was walking inside, a thoughtful frown on his face. As the hobbit dismounted, he heard Gandalf muttered something about a farmer and his family.

"Oin, Gloin, get a fire going," Thorin gestured at said dwarrows.

"Aye," Oin replied.

"I think it would be wiser to move on," Gandalf said in a much louder voice, turning to Thorin. "We could make for the Hidden Valley."

Bilbo rubbed the snout of a pony he affectionately named Myrtle. The steed had been the most tamed of them all, from what the hobbit observed. Myrtle hadn't act out at all, even if Bilbo was the worst rider yet. Because of her, Bilbo had less bruises than the dwarrows.

Bilbo looked up, hearing the heated voices of Thorin and Gandalf. Half the Company was observing the altercation, curious and cautious of what was happening. After a few more spitted words, the wizard stormed off, anger clear on his expression.

"Everything alright?" Bilbo asked, blinking in confusion. "Are we going to camp elsewhere?" Gandalf had mentioned something about a hidden valley, hadn't he?

"I'm afraid not, Bilbo," the wizard replied gruffly. "I seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense."

They all signed up to journey to a mountain that housed a dragon. Their leader hoped to defeat the beast with just fourteen members (excluding Bilbo because even Thorin knew better). And although their goal was noble, it was still a suicidal mission. So Bilbo had to ask, "And who's that?"

Aptly, the wizard answered, "Myself! I've had enough of dwarves for one day." With that, Gandalf stomped out of camp.

They all stared stunned at the wizard disappearing in the distance.

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Night had fallen and still, the wizard did not return.

The smell of stew sizzled in the air as Bombur distributed the food. Each dwarrow clamored for their portion, hunger making them forget propriety. Bilbo, on one of his moods, hadn't really got much of an appetite. Although he might want to try eating even just a bit; dying of starvation was one of the boring deaths he hoped to avoid.

"Shouldn't we go look for him?" Bilbo inquired, worried. Gandalf might be a wizard but he wasn't invincible, was he? He could be in trouble . . .

"Who?" Bofur returned, pouring stew in two bowls.

"Gandalf."

Bofur snorted. "He's a wizard. He does as he chooses." And before Bilbo could say anything in reply, Bofur handed him the two steaming bowls. "Here, do us a favor. Take this to the lads."

"Oh right." How could Bilbo have forgotten about them? They were growing boys; they needed all the nourishment they can get.

They tied the ponies a couple of meters outside camp so as not to smell any pony feces in their sleep. Bilbo headed that way, hearing Bofur reprimanding Bombur for eating more than his share as he left. The pony smell hit him before he saw the first nag. He stayed at least five feet away from each of them; he did not want to trigger another troublesome allergy attack. He found Fili and Kili in the middle of the field, standing unmoving and silent.

"Here you go, Fili, Kili." He held out the two bowls for them to take. The brothers didn't tear their gazes to whatever it is they're looking at, faces holding an expression of wide-eyed shock. "What's the matter?" Bilbo asked, following their gazes. They were just looking at the ponies grazing the field.

"We're supposed to be looking after the ponies." Kili said before gulping audibly.

"Only we've encountered a . . . slight problem." Fili followed, giving Bilbo a nervous glance.

"We had sixteen."

Bilbo's brows rose with surprise, realizing were this was going.

"Now, there's . . . fourteen."

"Oh dear," was all Bilbo could reply with.

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The three of them investigated the edges of the field

"Daisy and Bungo are missing." Kili reported, trying to hide the edge in his tone.

Bilbo's eyes widened as he realized he was staring at an uprooted tree. A _humongous_ uprooted tree, that is. "Shouldn't we tell Master Oakenshield?" After all, a leader always had to know what's happening, right? Bilbo's not really sure how this whole Company thing works . . .

"Uh . . ." Fili and Kili exchanged panicked looks, which went unnoticed by the hobbit. Bilbo was still observing the roots of the tree, which appeared to be dewy with clumps of dirt. "No. Let's not worry him."

Bilbo gave the boys an astute look. "You just don't want to get in trouble with your uncle, do you?" Bilbo had been around too many fauntlings not to know that kind of behavior. "Don't worry, I'm sure—"

"No, it's not that," Kili cut off.

"It's just, well," Fili cleared his throat. "As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it."

Bilbo sighed in exasperation. These boys, really . . . "Look, something big uprooted this tree." The hobbit gestured with a hand still holding a bowl. He blinked as he realized this, and promptly deposited the food onto Fili's hands. The dwarf took it in surprise. "It's something very big and possibly quite . . . dangerous."

Bilbo's eyes widened. Oh, Eru, maybe hunger had really slowed down his thinking. Or maybe the days of peacefulness had lulled him into a sense of security. His eyes gleamed as he realized that whatever took the ponies was _most probably_ dangerous. Life-threatening, even.

Finally, an opportunity had presented itself.

Now, only if Bilbo knew where to find that danger . . . As if on cue, Fili pointed out, "Hey, there's a light." The dwarf placed down the bowls of stew on a log. "Over there."

Both Fili and Kili shared a look before bolting off to the source of the light. Bilbo eagerly made to follow. After a few steps, the hobbit frowned, tilting his head. He ran back, grabbed the two bowls of stew, and dashed to catch up to the boys.

No growing boys should miss their meal after all.

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"Trolls," Bilbo breath out, staring in amazement at the beasts' camp. Two trolls to be exact. Wait, that's three, as another troll entered the camp with . . . "He's got Myrtle and Minty!" Bilbo couldn't help but cry out. Oh dear, they couldn't afford to lose more ponies. "I think they're going to eat them. We must do something!"

The boys turned to him. "Yes, you should." Kili said, placing a hand on his back.

The idea stuck to Bilbo's mind. Kili said something more but Bilbo was listening no longer. That's right, it would be the best action for all parties involved. "Alright, I'll do it." His heart started beating quicker in excitement and he stifled his smile just in time.

Kili and Fili paused, staring at him warily. "You will?" They expected for the hobbit to show no little amount of reluctance.

Bilbo nodded vigorously. He handed them the stews, which they accepted with a bit of hesitation. "You both will stay here and eat your stew. You will tell no one, alright?" Bilbo doubted thirteen dwarrows could defeat three humongous trolls. Well, not without fatalities, that is. "I'll try to get the ponies the best I can. But if I fail," Here, Bilbo tried to emphasize his point because he will surely fail. "Remember that no pony is worth your lives. You go back to camp and tell your uncle to get as far away from here as possible. Do you understand?" The hobbit loathed to see the boys in danger.

The brothers nodded with wide eyes, having already started on their stew. Bilbo sighed in relief. "Good, good."

Fili swallowed so he could speak. "If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like brown owl."

Bilbo didn't bother to remember the advice because he was pretty sure he won't use it. Instead, he gave once last smile to the boys, silently thanking them for tolerating his inept social skills. He survived longer than he expected but that didn't matter in the long run.

He walked through the bushes, enthusiastically approaching the glorious doom he was waiting for.

"Be careful, Bilbo," he heard Kili call out.

Bilbo certainly would not heed it.

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**A/N**: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English ay hindi ang wikang kinagisnan ko ;)).

Cliffhanger time! I might not be able to update for a while though. Exams are coming up and I may not have the time. But I am a master procrastinator so we'll see.

**Next up:** Bilbo tries to get killed by trolls. Keyword being 'tries' . . . The dwarrows are not helping his purpose, by the way.

Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


	10. (Suicidal) Attempt: Trolls II

**WARNING/S**: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression, crack-ish, depiction of injury.

**A/N:** This is officially the longest story I've done. It's about 23K words and it's the longest . . . That says something about how jumpy my muse is.

In this chapter, we'll see other POVs other than Bilbo's. I hope I do them justification!

Thanks for all the comments, favorites, follows, and (almost 300!) kudos! I'm not ashamed to say that those things have inspired me to keep writing!

**DISCLAIMER: **Bilbo Baggins is mine! *gets trampled by a million fangirls* Okay, fine, he's ours! But The Hobbit is solely Tolkien's and the movies are . . . many someone's.

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"Hey, Kee. You know I trust Bilbo but . . ."

"I don't really think this is a good idea."

"Yeah. That . . ."

". . ."

". . ."

". . ."

"We should have gotten Uncle."

"Yes, we should have, Fee."

"So . . . you get the others and I stay here to watch over Bilbo?"

"No way, Fee. You're the older one here. _You_ tell Uncle what's going on."

". . ."

". . ."

". . . I really wished I wasn't the older brother sometimes."

"Only when you have to take responsibility for the consequences. You always like being the older one when you have to order me around."

"You are a brat. Of course you need to be ordered around."

"Yes, yes. Now, are you going to inform Uncle or are we both going to just sit here and watch as Bilbo gets trampled by trolls?"

" . . . Fine."

"Also, tell Bombur that the stew was delicious!"

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From a distance, trolls were such ugly big creatures with unproportioned bumps on their faces and in their bodies. Up close, they were much worse because now, their acrid smell permeates the air. Bilbo wrinkled his nose, wishing he could have brought the makeshift hanky Bofur gave him.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today. And blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrow." One troll whined.

"Quit yer griping!" the one holding the ponies growled. "These ain't sheep. This is fresh nags!"

"Oh I don't like horse. I never have. Not enough fat on them."

From the hidden shadows of the camp, Bilbo stared at the large beasts. Their feet were twice the size of a hobbit, and would surely easily squash one. There would blood and gore everywhere but this was a forest so the soil would just absorb the remains. Bilbo knew that being stepped on by those overweight troll would be an instantaneous end. Oh, less pain and more of blissful darkness.

One of the trolls sneezed on the pot they were cooking over a heart fire.

"Well, that's lovely, that is. A floater," the apparent cook of the group said, no hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Bilbo winced in disgust. Well, what he read about trolls was true; they liked to eat things that are as vile and as rotten as their teeth.

_Their teeth._ What about being eaten then? Bilbo's body could easily be torn in half between those strong blunt teeth. It would no doubt be more painful than being stomped on but it was an exciting death indeed. He would be swiftly lifted off his feet, and would be in the air for several wonderful seconds. Then, those chompers would dig into his skin and then . . . nothing.

Bilbo tried to calm his labored breathing, heartbeat rabbiting in his chest. He couldn't stop the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat. He couldn't believe it; after several years of deliberating how to end his life, here it was. A perfect opportunity for a death quite unlike any other. His Took-ish side was practically jumping in glee, urging him to move his feet and present himself to his doom. Not another breath would be taken, not another person to burden . . .

But the Baggins in him reared itself into the forefront of his mind. "You made a promise, Bilbo, you daft fool," he murmured to himself. He shook himself out of his suicidal contemplations. He had promised Fili and Kili that he would try his best to get the ponies. A Baggins would always honor his word.

Bilbo sighed in resignation. An exhilarating death by the trolls' hands would have to wait.

He edged around the trolls' camp, making sure to stay hidden in the shadows. After a few minutes of skulking, he reached the stable where the horses were kept prisoner. Fortunately, all three trolls had their backs turned to the said stable. Unfortunately, the ropes keeping the structure enclosed was too thick and heavy for Bilbo to untie. He attempted it a few times, each try ending in a frustrated groan.

The hobbit looked around for something to cut the rope with. The best thing he could find, of course, was the small sword strapped around the closest troll's loincloth. Bilbo shrugged and walked closer to get closer, not bothering to quiet his steps.

That was when a big meaty hand grab his whole body to use as a handkerchief. The next thing Bilbo knew, he was covered in troll snot and he was blinking up at the wrinkly face of a troll.

The troll holding him screamed. Bilbo would have laughed at the shrillness of it had he not been utterly dismayed. His best waistcoat was ruined! By troll snot, no less. He looked glumly at the sticky sleeve. Then, he realized he was covered in the disgusting stuff and promptly tried to breathe through his nose. Goodness, these trolls were utterly revolting.

"Blimey!" the troll exclaimed. "Bert, Bert!" He called to his companions, getting hysterical by the minute. Bilbo found himself the subject of three curious glances. "Look what's come out of me hooter!" By Yavanna! These trolls really were slow and stupid. A hobbit, coming out of his nose! "It's got arms and legs and everything."

"What is it?" the cook, Bert, asked, looking at Bilbo with a contemplative gaze.

"Good evening," The hobbit greeted with a nod, thinking he might as well be polite to his killers and advocates of his cause.

"It speaks!" one called William said, looking to his companions for confirmation. "What are ye then? An oversized squirrel?"

"A squirrel!" Bilbo squeaked, offended in behalf of all the hobbits in the Shire. "Why, I am a hobbit, good sirs!"

"A hobbit?" the troll holding him—Tom, was it?—leaned in as if to get a better look. Bilbo's eyes widened with delight as those perilous teeth came near him. "Never heard'em before."

"Can we cook him?" Bert asked, ladle raised.

So, he was to die by stew then. "Of course you can!" Bilbo exclaimed, gesturing widely.

The three trolls startled at his enthusiasm. "We can?"

"Yes, of course." Bilbo nodded repeatedly. "However, you have to do it right to get the best absolute flavor." Bilbo, after all, had no plan to die a painful and slow death like being boiled in soup. "First, you must take of my head."

"We can't eat your head?" Bert narrowed his gaze at him, skeptical.

"Oh, you can," Bilbo amended, quickly trying to think of something. "But . . . But cutting off the head will make all the . . . b-bad blood flow out of the body, you see."

"But I like the flavor of blood," William griped.

"No, no, no. But not this blood. Bad blood, you see, um, are poisonous. Yes, they are! Very toxic."

The trolls' eyes widened. "Yer poisonous!"

Bilbo's eyes widened, realizing his mistake. "Wha—No, I meant—" Too late to correct his mistake, it seemed. He flew into the air as Tom threw him like a rag.

The hobbit landed hard on his stomach, breath stolen from him by the impact. He gasped and spluttered onto the wet soil. His chest felt like it was on fire and he wasn't capable of getting up.

"A poisonous creature! And we almost ate't," one of the trolls said.

"What should we do with it?"

"Kill it, I say. Stomped on it, Tom."

Well, Bilbo may not have been eaten but he'll happily settle for a being squashed. He turned on his back and closed his eyes, waiting. Just a few more minutes . . .

"What? Why me?"

"Yer the one that sneezed it out!"

"I dun want to do it! It says it was poisoned, innit?"

"Just when we it eat, Tom."

"But what if it melts my foot if I step on it?"

Bilbo sighed as the trolls continued to argue. Of course, his death wouldn't be that easy. Of course, only he would find the only trolls in Middle Earth who refused to kill him. He opened his eyes as he sat up, gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest. "Excuse me!" The mere call made his lungs constrict and he coughed for a few moments.

At least, he got the trolls' attention. "As I've said, I'm not really poisonous when cooked right. I was about to _tell_ you, actually, that hobbits are the tastiest morsel in the whole of Middle Earth."

"Really?" Bert asked with a malicious gleam in his eyes. He swiftly grabbing Bilbo in a suffocating grip. Oh, Bilbo hadn't thought of being squeezed to death. It sounded marvelous. "Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn't? You wouldn't make more than a mouthful."

Bilbo's eyes widened in panic. He hoped Fili and Kili had already gone to inform their uncle, and was as far away from here as possible. He struggled to say, "Uh—oh no. I'm a-afraid not."

As if on cue, Kili made his entrance. "Drop him!" He commanded, wielding a large sword.

"You what?" William asked, the slowness of his mind evident in his features.

"Kili, you mad dwarf!" Bilbo couldn't help but shout in both frustration and dismay. "I told you to go!"

The young dwarf ignored him, opting instead to stare down _three_ large trolls. Oh, dear, this foolish boy! Bilbo turned to Bert and said, "Oh, that, that dwarf doesn't taste good. At all. Really, you shouldn't—"

"I said . . ." Kili growled, cutting off Bilbo's attempts to save his life. "Drop him."

Bert released an animalistic snarl. And then, Bilbo was flying the second time that night as the troll threw him towards Kili. The hobbit and dwarf landed in a heap on the forest floor.

Chaos erupted as the rest of dwarrows came charging from the trees.

_No, no, no_, Bilbo chanted in his mind. No one else was supposed to get involved. The boys hadn't listened to him! Kili pushed himself up, helping Bilbo in the process.

"Get to safety, alright?" Kili placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder before joining in the fray.

Dwarrows with their assortment of weapons slashed and stabbed the three trolls. However, the trolls' skins were too thick and leathery that they barely drew blood. Bilbo's heart skipped a beat as Fili almost got himself flattened by a troll foot and as Ori's head almost got ripped off by one of those meaty fingers. Everything was happening so fast that Bilbo almost couldn't follow it.

_I must do something!_ Bilbo felt utterly useless as he watched the dwarrows fight for their very lives. He caused this so the least he could do was find something to do. When he heard the ponies neighed in distress at all the commotion, the hobbit knew what he had to do.

He carelessly charged into the battlefield, weaponless and tactless. And if he somehow got killed amidst the battle . . . well, no one could be blamed. A troll foot came excitingly close to his head. But Bifur swerve it away with quick swing of his mace.

The dwarf shouted something to Bilbo, pointing at the forest. Bilbo merely nodded, and proceeded to get deeper into the troll's camp. He got nicked by the dwarrows a few times but the wounds were mere cuts and bruises, nothing fatal.

Bilbo disappointingly and safely reach the stables, relatively unscathed.

_Oh well, at least I could be useful_. The hobbit had grabbed the small knife he had been previously eyeing. He sawed through the ropes of the enclosure. Within a minute, Bilbo was able to dragged the fence free and let the ponies out.

Less than a minute after that, Bilbo found himself hovering in the air, arms and legs held by two of the trolls. He blinked in bewilderment, staring at the dwarrows below him. The dwarrows, in turn, stared up at him with horror.

"Bilbo!" Kili cried out with dismay, running towards said hobbit. He would have fought the trolls all by himself had Thorin not held him back with a "Don't!" and a firm grip on his arm.

"Lay down your arms," William one of the trolls with a grip on the hobbit's arm, ordered, glaring at the dwarrows. They brandished their weapons against the three trolls, panic evident in their eyes. "Or we'll rip his off."

Bilbo's eyes widened as he realized he was being used as a hostage. Why, these trolls were smarter than they appeared. Or, well, thinking about it, not exactly smart; they should have chosen a better hostage than Bilbo. He was the least useful among the Company; he wasn't worth much as leverage.

Still, just in case the Company was noble enough to try and save their most incompetent member, Bilbo said calmly, "Don't do what they say—"

"Quit yer yapping!" Bert shouted, shaking the hobbit in his grip.

A great _crack_ resounded in the space of the troll's camp. For a few seconds, Bilbo wondered at the source of the noise. Was it a firework? A rock cracking against another? Then, the pain manifested itself into his left shoulder and his questions were answered.

He screamed as fire climbed up the length of his left arm. _Oh Eru, Yavanna, Aule, and all the Valars._ Black dots filled his vision and for a moment, he thought he was going to faint. But the moment was gone, and he managed to swim to consciousness just a few seconds later. Tears escaped the corners of his eyes and ran down his cheeks, tracing a glistening path on his dirtied face.

"Bilbo!" "Master Baggins!" The cries of the dwarrows were the first thing Bilbo registered.

"—squealing like a pig, he is." The gleeful voice of the troll was the second thing Bilbo heard.

"Now," Bilbo let out a soft cry as his injured arm was pulled. His bones were grating with each other at a painful angle, feeling misaligned. "Drop yer weapons."

Bilbo's head snapped to the dwarrows. He met Thorin's undecipherable gaze with wide teary eyes. Unable to speak, the hobbit merely shook his head vigorously. If they stopped fighting, the trolls would capture them and have them for dinner. Either way, Bilbo would die in the end, which really was the result everyone would be glad about. There was no need for the other dwarrows to join him.

His and Thorin's gaze held for a few tense moments.

Then, the dwarf gruffly embedded his big sword into the ground, a sure sign of surrender. The others hesitated but soon followed, throwing their armaments to the ground with a huff. Ori, rather petulantly, hurled his slingshot away.

"No, don't . . ." Bilbo's voice was hoarse and it hurt to speak.

But his pleading came unheeded as dwarrows disarmed themselves.

_Oh, confusticate these dwarrows!_

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**A/N**: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English ay hindi ang wikang kinagisnan ko ;)).

**Next up:** Bilbo tries to kill two birds with one stone. Unfortunately, the dwarrows hinders his plan, as they always do.

Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


	11. (Suicidal) Attempt: Trolls III

**WARNING/S**: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression, crack-ish, depiction of injury, suicide attempt.

**A/N:** Oh, yes for people who didn't know, this will be a Bagginshield! But it's gonna be a SLOW BURN that you probably won't realize most of the hints.

Okay, there is an active action towards suicide here (previous ones were passive) so, yeah. Just a heads-up.

Thanks for all the comments, favorites (WTF, a hundred!), follows, and kudos! Wow, they're really wonderful and surprising 'cause this story is definitely not one of my best writing.

**DISCLAIMER: **Of course, I own The Ho-*the ghost of 100+-year-old genius linguist professor shows up* GAH! I don't own The Hobbit! At all. Take it, Tolkien!

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Half of them was tied to a spit, slowly roasting over the campfire. The other half was stuffed into foul-smelling sacks that removed much of their mobility. Bilbo was unfortunately included in the latter.

Agony spiked up his arm whenever he so much as twitched; he didn't even attempt to get out of his sack like the other dwarrows. He had to blink away not only tears of pain but also tears of frustration. It was his fault that the Company was caught. It was his actions that would kill all of them and cut the journey short for these noble dwarrows.

"It's alright, laddie," Balin, who was piled up right beside him, reassured. "Everything will be fine."

It was hard to believe the dwarf when the trolls were loudly discussing the seasoning they would use on the dwarrows. But Bilbo said nothing in reply, only letting out an exasperated sigh.

The thought of giving up was sorely tempting him. After all, before the day ends, Bilbo would achieve a creative doom he had wanted for years. But this death was only supposed to be _his_! Not Fili's, not Kili's, not Ori's—not all of the dwarrow's. He must do something!

If they can't defeat the beasts with brawn, then they have use their brains. There must be a clever way out of this . . . Where was that damn wizard when they needed him? _Probably off creating riddles to confound the whole mortal population_, Bilbo thought with a hint of spite. Still, there must be something they could do!

As if on cue, William muttered to his companions, "Never mind the seasoning! We ain't got all night." The troll turned the spit to evenly cook the Company. "Dawn ain't far away. Let's get a move on." A notion niggled at the back of Bilbo's mind—the beginnings of a brilliant idea or a totally dumb one. "I don't fancy being turned to stone."

The hobbit glanced up at the night sky and saw not a star twinkling above. It's always darkest before dawn, his mother used to say. _It's pretty dark now . . ._

And just like that, a plan unfolded in Bilbo's head.

Yes, he had read about the effects of sunlight on mountain trolls.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, getting the attention of everyone. Again, he swallowed the nerves that threatened to overwhelm him at so many eyes on him. _Stall, _Bilbo said to himself, _you have to stall for the dwarrows._ "You're making a terrible mistake!"

"You can't reason with them," Dori shouted from his position over the toasty fire. "They're half-wits."

"Half-wits?" Bofur followed, accent getting thicker with hysteria. "What does that makes us then?"

Bilbo stumbled to his feet, which was made difficult because he only had one functioning arm. Nevertheless, he successfully straightened up after a few tries and several stifled whimpers.

"Sit down, Bilbo!" one of the dwarrows hissed, though Bilbo couldn't be sure who.

"I meant with the seasoning!" Bilbo forged on, determined to at least try.

Bert turned to him, a scowl on his face but his interests were clearly piqued. "What about the seasoning?"

"Well, h-have you smelt them?" the hobbit said with a nervous laugh. "You're gonna need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up." Oh Eru, he really hoped this works.

Behind him, the dwarrows exclaimed profanities, calling the hobbit a traitor. Bilbo and the trolls ignored them. The hobbit hopped closer to the nearest beast, who was the cook, gritting his teeth when the movement jarred his shoulder.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" William asked, giving Bilbo a skeptical look.

"Shut up." Bert hissed. He leaned closer to Bilbo. "Let the hobbit talk."

The hobbit decided to start with a kernel of truth. "I-I know nothing about cooking dwarf. But—"

"See!" Tom piped up, pointing at him accusingly. "That one's lying, it is—"

"But!" Bilbo interrupted, raising his voice. "But . . ." He tried to think of something to add. His eyes brightened as he realized he could still salvage this situation _and_ accomplish his goal. A brilliant idea crossed his mind, one he didn't waste time implementing. "_Remember_; I told you that hobbits are the tastiest morsel in the world."

"Yeah, you did, didn't you," Bert nodded, contemplative.

Bilbo nodded back. "We are so tasty, in fact, that after you digest us, every food you eat would be the outmost delicacy!"

"Bilbo, no!" He heard Fili yelled, followed by a barrage of bellows from the other dwarrows.

"Burglar!" Thorin's voice sounded above the din. "Stop this nonsense."

"Shut up, you lot!" Tom growled.

"What? I've never heard of such a thing!" William exclaimed with disbelief.

"'Tis true!" Bilbo insisted. "Why, all the goblins, orcs, and wolves who had a bite of us would tell you the same!"

"You tellin' us that we should eat you first?"

"Yes, yes," Bilbo answered, innately glad that his plan seemed to be working. The sky was already lightening so it shouldn't be long. "Now, recall what I told you about cooking hobbits."

"We cut off your head and let the poison flow out," Bert said, giving Bilbo a thoughtful look. After several contemplative seconds, he held out one hand to another troll while the other enclosed Bilbo in a firm grip. "Tom, get me my chopping knife."

"Careful, please." Bilbo whimpered as his injured arm was twisted.

"Laddie, what are ye doin'!?"

"Don't do it, Bilbo!"

"Let him go, you stupid ugly beasts!"

Tom griped, "But he wouldn't make even a mouthful."

"You don't have to eat much. Just a bite would do." Bilbo reasoned, valiantly resisting the urge to smile. "One gets my head, one has my upper half, and another my lower half."

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Unbeknownst to the trolls and one hobbit, the dwarrows' eyes widened with horror and shock at the words. What madness had afflicted their burglar? He was trying to get eaten first for no discernible reason! Thorin narrowed his gaze at the hobbit. The burglar was no means fool nor was he suicidal (Tharkûn would have mentioned that, surely). _So what is he . . ._ It was then that the leader realized that the sky was no longer as dark as before; dawn was fast approaching.

The epiphany hit Thorin like rocks in a mine cave-in. _He's stalling._ And risking his life in the process. Did the halfling not realize they were in this situation because the Company wanted to save his life?

"I want the head," one of the beasts demanded, continuing his task of spinning the other members of the Company over the fire.

"Alright, alright," the seeming cook of the trolls agreed recalcitrantly, laying Bilbo flat on his back as he twirled the knife in his hand.

Because the Company cannot risk losing their burglar, Thorin called out, "He's lying!"

The clamors of the others silenced at his bellow. Bilbo looked at him with wide eyes filled with disbelief. (Also, Bilbo placed in a healthy amount of 'are you an idiot?' in his expression). The trolls turned to Thorin as one, pausing their activities.

"Whats'at?" one of the trolls asked, frowning.

"He's lying, of course," Thorin repeated calmly. Inside, the gears of his mind was working quickly to think of something to add to that. "Did you not know that . . . that halflings are infected?"

"You what?" the trolls asked in confusion.

"Aye." Thorin gave a solemn nod. "That one has . . . " _Something disgusting . . . _ His gaze happened to land on an earthworm burrowing the soil beside his head. " . . . worms in his . . . tubes."

"Eww!" The knife-holder immediately pulled back his hand from Bilbo as if burned.

"I do not!" Bilbo protested, sounding scandalized beyond belief. He shot Thorin a heated glare. "Hobbit are clean of parasites, I'll have you know."

"Yeah, Uncle, what are you saying?" Kili defended, looking up at Thorin. "Bilbo doesn't have parasites!"

Thorin made a jerky movement to get his sister-son to catch up to the ruse; it would have been a kick to the head had the sack not impeded much of his movement. He saw Kili's eyes widened in realization. The dwarrows around him comprehended the plan not a second after.

"Ah, yes. He's got parasites as big as my arm!" Oin commented loudly, the lack of his ear trumpet rendering him unable to hear his own voice.

Kili followed, exclaiming vivaciously, "His are the biggest parasites! I've seen them moving around his stomach."

"What? No!" Mahal help them, was the Burglar actually trying to get himself killed? There was no need to further endanger himself. "They're lying!"

"He's riddled," Ori added, trying to be helpful. "Badly."

"Told you he was poisonous, didn't I?" one of trolls muttered. "You didn't listen!"

"You did it, Uncle," Kili whispered, relief palpable in his expression.

Thorin nodded, glad they didn't have to trouble themselves by finding another burglar.

That's what he told himself anyway.

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_Bebother these dwarrows!_

Bilbo appreciated them trying to save him. Wait, no, actually, he _understood _that their nobility wouldn't allow them to let helpless creatures die on their watch. Still, Bilbo did not appreciate their 'help'.

To the trolls, he persisted, "I told you! I'm not poisonous!" And how did being poisonous connect to having worms in his tubes anyway? Troll mindset didn't make any sense.

William glared at the dwarrows, a shrewd look in his eyes. "You think I don't know what yer up to? These dwarves are taking us for fools!" The troll gestured at Bilbo. "Cut him up, Bert!"

Well, it seemed their scheme didn't work after all. Bilbo almost let out a sigh of relief.

The dwarrows went back to shouting insults, pleads, and just a lot of gibberish exclamations as Bert took ahold of him again. Bilbo wondered why they cared so much. Surely, they could get a more competent burglar? Bilbo wasn't exactly one of a kind. . .

But Bilbo pondered no more as the blade end was placed over the expanse of his throat. He lifted his head to give the troll better access; a clean and swift decapitation, after all, was one of the most painless way to go. _Finally_, Bilbo sighed.

"Also, wait at least half-an-hour after eating me," Bilbo added, just in case. He wanted to give the Company more time. "That way, I'll be fully digested." Bilbo looked up the sky, glad to find the sight to be a breathtaking mash of blue, pink, purple, and orange. Not a bad view, if that was the last thing he'll ever see.

"Hmm, reasonable." Bert acceded. "Now, hold still, little hobbit."

Bilbo nodded solemnly. Bert raised the knife high in the air, one hand restraining Bilbo as if he was flopping fish. But Bilbo didn't struggle one bit.

"No!" He heard Kili cried out, sounding near to tears.

"Bilbo!" Fili yelled from his place over the fire. "Stop, stop, you cowardly smelly trolls!"

The hobbit's heart ached for the boys' cries so he replied, "Everything will be alright, boys." Well, the dwarrows would be alright, anyway.

And the knife came down with perilous certainty.

Of course, Gandalf decided to make a grand entrance. "Let dawn take you!" he boomed before a blinding light engulfed the whole camp.

The trolls screamed as the sunlight pierced their skin. They tried to cover their faces but it was no use; every part the sun touched instantly turned to stone. The knife tumbled out of Bert's grip, spinning quickly and cutting air. Bilbo, for one optimistic moment, believed that the knife was going to land on him, stabbing right through. Unfortunately for him, it landed a few short inches away from his head.

"Yeah!"

"Great timing, Wizard!"

The dwarrows cheered loudly as the last troll completely turned to granite. Loud boisterous laughter filled the camp, the Company doing a little victory dance in their respective bindings. Why, Bilbo believed he even saw Thorin smiling with teeth out. The wizard climbed down from a large boulder—one which he cracked in half to let the sunlight filter through.

Bilbo merely stared in shock at the knife beside him, unable to believe he survived that ordeal.

"Great timing indeed," Bilbo muttered, letting his head fall on the ground with a satisfying _thunk_.

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**A/N**: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English ay hindi ang wikang kinagisnan ko ;)).

P.S. Tharkûn is Gandalf's name in Khuzdul.

Alright, I'm reminding you guys again that suicide should NEVER be romanticized. Really, it's nothing short of sad. (Fuck, I'm a bad person for making this crack). Anyway, steer clear if the descriptions are starting to affect you!

**Next up:** Bilbo gets his injuries treated. The Company shares their opinions about their burglar.

Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


	12. (Suicidal) Treatment

**WARNING/S**: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression, crack-ish, depiction of injury

**A/N: **Oh my god, a writer's block is preventing me from writing as quickly as I want. I apologize for the later than usual update. Also, my brain keeps jumping to the ending I want for this story and ugh, I want to write BOTFA already! That's where the half-serious part (and angst) is going to come in.

Meanwhile, enjoy this crack-ish chapters . . . Soon, you guys won't have that anymore. *evil laughter*

Thanks for all the comments, favorites, follows, bookmarks and (over 400!) kudos! Thank you **Balinor88** for sharing your insight and experience. I'm pretty sure all those who were left behind feel much the same. :)

**DISCLAIMER: **Of course, I own The Ho-*the ghost of 100+-year-old genius linguist professor shows up* GAH! I don't own The Hobbit! At all. Take it, Tolkien!

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"Bilbo!" Fili and Kili wailed the minute they got out of their bindings. They ran towards said hobbit, who was being helped up by Bofur, and promptly hugged the living daylights out of him.

"Ah!" Bilbo cried out as they pressed on his injured arm.

Immediately, the boys loosened their embrace into a less suffocating one. "We're so sorry, Bilbo."

"It's alright," Bilbo reassured, knowing they couldn't have possibly known he was attempting kill himself. It wasn't their fault circumstances had cursed Bilbo to live another day. Still, there could only be one other reason the young drwarrows were apologizing. "I don't think my shoulder got any worse."

Kili pulled back and Bilbo was perplexed to realize there were the beginnings of tears in his eyes. "Not just that! We're sorry for forcing you to sneak into the troll's camp."

"Yeah, it was stupid and immature of us," Fili agreed, eyes down on the ground.

"It was _very_ foolish of you."

Three heads turned to the dwarven leader that was marching towards them. His face held the usual sour expression, added with a large pinch of barely contained anger.

"You nearly got the whole Company killed because of your thoughtlessness." Thorin didn't shout, per say, but for the power and heat in his voice, he might as well have yelled it to the Valars. "Irresponsible decisions will have fatal repercussions. You are to be the heirs of Durin's line. You cannot afford to be careless."

Kili and Fili shrunk into themselves, looking severely ashamed in the wake of their uncle's reprimand.

Bilbo stepped forward, frowning. "The boys didn't force me to do anything. I went in there willingly." He looked at the boys as he said the latter.

It was true; Kili may have suggested the idea but Bilbo was the one who eagerly strode into the troll's camp. He didn't want to get the brothers in trouble for something he planned by himself. And maybe, he was a _little_ bit angry at the dwarven leader for accusing of having worms in his tubes and wanted to vent it out.

"And you," And there, the fiery glare turned to him instantly. Bilbo defiantly stared back. He's had worse glares from his neighbors. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Bilbo fought down the panic building in his chest. The dwarf couldn't possibly know anything! "Or are you just as foolish as my sister-sons?" Thorin's eyes flitted to the knife Bert had almost cut Bilbo with. "Did you not catch on to our plan? Why were you still convincing those beasts to eat you?" The dwarf leveled him with a suspicious glance.

"I . . . uh. . . I was merely . . ." Bilbo struggled to think of a reply that didn't involve 'Why yes, I was trying to get myself eaten'. His mind was coming up short of other excuses.

Thankfully, that was the moment Oin decided to interrupt.

The healer pushed past the dwarven leader. "You can berate him later, Thorin." To Bilbo, he said, "Let me see your shoulder, lad."

The leader let out an almost huff before storming away. Kili and Fili visibly relaxed as their uncle left.

Bilbo let out a relieved sigh as well, glad that he didn't get found out. He turned to Oin, who was staring expectantly at him. Bilbo blinked stupidly back.

"Take off your tunic, Master Baggins," Oin said slowly and loudly (where was his ear trumpet anyway?), as if talking to a child.

"Here?" Bilbo glanced around. Due to Oin's ear-ringing announcement, most of the Company were eyeing their little group with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement. "Right now?" The dwarf couldn't possibly expect him to strip with an audience!

"Speak up, laddie," The healer gestured at his own ear. "And I need to check the damage quickly lest it heals wrong." His hands, without preamble or warning, came to remove the hobbit's red velvet overcoat.

Bilbo flushed, reddening up to the tips of his pointy ears. "W-Wait just one moment, Master Oin," he stuttered out, backing away from said dwarf. Unfortunately, the Durin boys got ahold of him from behind and he didn't get very far. "I can't possibly—There are—C-Can we not do this somewhere private?"

"Come now, Bilbo," Kili pulled one side of his overcoat down. The hobbit yelped, pulling it back up. "We're all men here! It's nothing we haven't seen."

"I-It's inappropriate!" Bilbo couldn't help but squeak out, embarrassed beyond belief. "To strip down in public, that is. It isn't done in the Shire!" And really, it shouldn't be done anywhere else if hobbits were to be asked.

Something mischievous gleamed in Fili's and Kili's eyes. Bilbo shot them a wary glance, trying to subtly remove their holds on him.

A few seconds later, the hobbit's caution was well-deserved because the boys _lunged_ at him. A squeal escaped unbidden from his lips as the young dwarrows swiftly displaced Bilbo's overcoat with deft fingers.

"No, no, no, wait. Stop!" The hobbit struggled even though he knew it was futile; he only had one functioning arm to push away two spirited boys after all.

"Careful on the shoulder, lads!" one of the dwarrows shouted.

Surprisingly, even with his all his struggling, Fili and Kili managed to heed it. The injured limb was barely agitated as they buttoned down his waistcoat and tunic. Bilbo's face was probably as red as a tomato by now. The chuckles of the Company were not helping in the slightest; they're probably getting an eyeful of hobbit anatomy for the first time. To say that Bilbo was mortified would be the understatement of the millennia.

Oh, and there went his sticky tunic. A small part of Bilbo was glad to be rid of troll stench. But a large part just wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

"There you go, Master Baggins," Oin nodded after Bilbo was undressed from waist up. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"

_Oh, it was as humiliating as I thought it would be_, was what Bilbo would have said but held his tongue.

Fili and Kili both inhaled sharply as the injury was revealed while Oin merely hummed thoughtfully. Bilbo turned to look for himself. With wide eyes, he took in the red swelling of his shoulder. The muscle was bulging sickeningly, a yellowish hint to the bruises around disgustingly visible. Bilbo blanched as he realized that a _bone_ was causing the protrusion.

"By Yavanna's garden," Bilbo breathed out, feeling bile rising at the back of his throat.

"It's alright, Master Baggins," Oin comforted, placing a tender hand on the damaged shoulder. Bilbo would have flinched away had it not been for the boys holding him in place. "It's just a dislocated shoulder. I can fix this easily."

"Y-You can?" Bilbo didn't want to be in pain any longer than necessary.

"Aye, Bilbo!" Fili reassured, grinning. "Kili and I had dislocated shoulders now and then. It's nothing to worry about."

"It is a simple enough injury." Oin put both hands on the injured shoulder, giving the hobbit an earnest look. "I'm going to have to set it, Master Baggins. It's going to be quick but painful."

Bilbo breathe through his mouth, bracing himself. _It'll be fine_, he told himself. It was just a dislocated shoulder; Bilbo had seen plenty of that in his childhood because his playmates were particularly careless. He felt Fili and Kili tightened their grips on him.

"I'm going to count to three." Oin looked at Bilbo in the eye. The hobbit nodded, knowing the almost deaf dwarf wouldn't even hear him if he speaks. "And then, I'm going to—" The healer swiftly pulled, twisted and pushed the appendage.

Bilbo felt the relief of the bone sliding in place. He also felt the momentary but extreme agony of the process; his whole left arm was suddenly being pricked by a thousand needles. He unconsciously let out the foulest curse he knew, followed by a soft cry that was definitely a whimper.

And he fainted on the spot.

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Gandalf hummed, tapping the statues that were once trolls with his staff. He mentally patted himself for a job well done.

"Where did you go to, if I might ask?"

The wizard turned to the approaching dwarf with a nonchalant face. "To look ahead," he answered.

Thorin raised a brow. "And what brought you back?"

Gandalf stifled a snicker. Dwarf and men alike kept falling for his trap of riddles. "Looking behind."

Thorin gave a resigned smile, not knowing what he expected. He long since realized that no concrete answers would be coming from the wizard.

"Nasty business," Gandalf said, sobering up. His old knowing eyes went to the dwarrows helping each other get free. "Still, they're all in one piece."

"Thanks to your burglar," Thorin couldn't help but mutter, following the wizard's gaze. The halfling was currently wrestling with his sister-sons, yelping all the way. The rest of the Company was watching the scene with obvious delight.

Thorin frowned. Wasn't the halfling injured? Horsing around could only worsen his state. What were his nephews thinking?

"Yes, he's rather clever, isn't he?" Gandalf replied, breaking Thorin out of his thoughts. Then, he frowned, shooting the hobbit a perplexed and perturbed glance. "And quite the risk-taker too."

That reminded Thorin of a notion that had been bothering him after the whole troll incident. "How did he know you would come to save him in time?" The burglar had even assured Fili and Kili that everything would be fine. Did the halfling's confidence on Tharkûn truly went that far?

"Or perhaps," Here, the furrow of Gandalf's brows deepened. "He hadn't expected to be saved."

Thorin's head whipped to the wizard, expression bewildered. "What do you mean, Wizard?"

Before Gandalf could reply with another nonsensical and disarming riddle, a cry echoed in the area. Their heads snapped towards the source of the sound, and found the hobbit slumped over Fili's and Kili's arms.

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"Steady, lads," Oin instructed the two Durin heirs, gesturing that Bilbo be put on the ground. The young dwarrows complied, gently maneuvering the hobbit down.

"Oh dear," Dori murmured, coming closer and peering down on the hobbit.

Several dwarrows followed Dori's example, and gathered in a circle around Bilbo. Various degrees of concern were written on their faces. Surely, a disclocated shoulder couldn't hurt so bad as to make their burglar faint?

"Give me some space," Oin huffed out with a wave of his hand. "Can't work with you lot hovering."

The Company obediently moved back a step, muttering to themselves.

"He mustn't be used to the pain then." Fili thought out loud.

The only time Fili passed out from a dislocated shoulder was the first time he had one. It must have been Bilbo's first time to ever get such. Not for the first time, Fili wondered why such a soft creature contented in his home would risk his life just to help a bunch of strangers on a mad quest. He removed his cloak, folded it unceremoniously, and placed it under the hobbit's head.

Oin snorted. "He's lucky he only has a dislocated shoulder. With the way those trolls were holding'im, it could've easily been worse." To Gloin, he ordered, "Get me my kit." The dwarf nodded and ran off to the field where the rest of ponies were kept.

"And had the wizard not have arrived in the nick of time," Nori started, giving the hobbit a contemplative look. "We would've been sending his corpse in parts back to his Shire."

Fili, Kili and Ori paled. Dori, ever the mother hen, loudly smacked Nori in the head. "Don't you go saying things like that, you nitwit."

Nori gave his brother half-hearted glare, rubbing his head, but remained silent.

"What is the matter?" The dwarrows parted to give the wizard a wide berth as he approached. Gandalf crouched down beside the unconscious hobbit.

Thorin content himself to stay outside of the circle the Company had created around the halfling. It was nearly mid-morning, and there were a lot of chores to do so they could move on. But Thorin allowed them a little time to hover over their smallest member. For some reason, some of the Company found kinship with the burglar even though he wasn't a dwarf. Thorin wasn't about to begrudge them on that, seeing as the halfling practically saved their lives (even though it was done in a very unwise way).

"He just passed out," Kili answered, brushing away the curls stuck to Bilbo's forehead. Suddenly, he couldn't help but laugh. "Did you know that one of the trolls used Bilbo as a handkerchief? It sneezed on him like a wet towel! I saw the whole thing! It was . . ." Kili faltered, seeing the heated glares of the Company and one wizard. He promptly changed tactics. ". . . truly terrifying for Bilbo, I'm sure. He was so close to the trolls." He ended with a solemn nod. Then, a realization crossed his mind, and he blinked in bafflement. "Now that I think about it, he wasn't frightened. At all. He was so calm about the whole thing!"

"Seems the burglar has a bit of a backbone after all," muttered Dwalin, a hint of grudging admiration in his tone and eyes.

"He was so brave," Ori whispered, looking at Bilbo with no small amount of awe. "He put his life on the line just to save us."

The Company was silenced by the revelation, exchanging wide-eyed looks. Gandalf merely gave a thoughtful hum, examining the extent of the hobbit's injuries. He nodded approvingly at the properly fixed shoulder, and murmured a simple spell to speed up the process of healing. After all, there were dangers in this quest that could not be fought with a disabled arm.

"There is work to be done." Their leader's commanding voice snapped them out of their observation of the hobbit. "Let Oin tend to the halfling first." Thorin gave the aforementioned member of the Company no more than a cursory glance. "Those who are able will go back to camp and pack the rest of the supplies."

Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bombur, Dori and Ori were tasked to pack up the camp. The rest had burns that need Oin's care and thus, had to wait in line. Gloin returned just as the former group left, holding up a satchel that clinked at every movement. Oin muttered a "thank you" as he accepted it, eyes still on the unconscious hobbit.

Gandalf straightened up, and gave a nod at the healer. "I trust that Bilbo would be in capable hands." Oin didn't reply, mostly because he hadn't heard half of what the wizard said.

Gandalf met Thorin's eyes and gestured with his staff. "There is work for us as well." He glanced over the enormous statues of the beasts. "These trolls must have come down from Ettenmoors."

The dwarven leader frowned. "Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?"

It wasn't long before the rest of the Company figured out that there was a cave nearby the trolls used for shelter during daylight. The remaining dwarrows, sans Fili and Kili who refused to leave Bilbo's side, went to follow Thorin and the wizard to explore the cavern. Trolls were known not only for their healthy appetite but also for their avarice when it comes to all things shiny. They definitely couldn't wait to find out what the beasts' lair contains.

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**A/N**: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English ay hindi ang wikang kinagisnan ko ;)).

I wanted to insert a fainting scene since I robbed Bilbo of that at the signing of the contract. So, tah-dah.

**Next up:** A familiar letter opener makes its entrance. Also, a familiar cuckoo wizard . . .

Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


	13. (Suicidal) Replacements

**WARNING/S**: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression.

**A/N:** Sorry for the later than usual update! Had so many consecutive tests last week and didn't have time to sleep, let alone write. But now I'm freeEEEEEE (For a while, anyway)! So here's the next installation of this uber crazy story.

Thank you for all the reviews, comments, favorites, bookmarks, and kudos! You guys are so awesome really!

Also, **Shiningheart of ThunderClan**, I fell over laughing when I first read your comment. Christ. Headcanon accepted! The foulest curse Bilbo knew and said in the last chapter was "Yavanna's saggy left tit!" Man, it reminded me of my dip in the Harry Potter fandom.

**DISCLAIMER: **Of course, I own The Ho-*the ghost of 100+-year-old genius linguist professor shows up* GAH! I don't own The Hobbit! At all. Take it, Tolkien!

Enjoy~

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"Master Baggins." A digit was tapping his cheek in an irritating rhythm. "Get up now, lad."

Bilbo tried to slap the probing finger away. "It's too early for this, Lobelia. You can't have my spoons," Bilbo made a valiant attempt to say all in one breathe. Unfortunately, all that came out was "Ughmy iagh vemyoons."

Above him, Kili, Fili, and Oin exchanged bewildered looks.

"Bilbo." And now, there were fingers running through his curls. That was much nicer. Scratch that; it was absolutely lovely. "You need to wake up."

The hobbit hummed in contentment, leaning into the touch but still refusing to crack his eyelids open. His scalp tingled with the sensation, sending goosebumps from the hair at the back of his neck to the tufts on his feet. Pleasant trills shot through his veins, warming his chest; his limbs relaxed out of their own accord. Very pleasant, it was. It had been such a _long_ time since anyone had touch him with any sort of tenderness. In fact, his mother was the last one to ever run her hand through his hair with such gentle affections.

The notion had Bilbo finally blinking into consciousness. His mother was dead (and he really hoped to join her soon). No one else could have showered him with such touches.

Three blurry figures focused into three dwarven faces. Kili and Fili grinned down at him for some unknown reason. Bilbo wondered what kind of mischief the brothers had afoot.

"There you go, laddie," Oin said with approval.

"You told me you'll count to three," Bilbo couldn't help but groan out, recalling the events that led him to lie down on the damp forest floor.

Kili and Fili chuckled, and Bilbo realized with a start that Kili's fingers were the culprits to the pleasant strokes through his hair. The hobbit had not the will to tell him to stop.

"Aye," Fili started. "Uncle told us that it'll hurt more had you brace yourself against the pain."

"Surprise makes it as painless as possible," Kili added.

"Didn't at all feel painless to me," Bilbo murmured, eyes starting to droop.

Exhaustion dragged his limbs down to the earth, preventing him from doing anything productive. Perhaps it wasn't too astonishing, seeing as he stayed up all night gallivanting with vicious trolls and dwarrows with misplaced heroism. He wanted to embrace the beckoning darkness and never come back from it. Oh dear, lethargy was hitting him quite hard today. The hand massaging his head didn't help in the slightest as the action calmed his nerves.

"None of that, Master Baggins," Bilbo's eyes flew wide open as Oin shook him.

"We're going now, Bilbo," Kili informed him, removing his fingers from Bilbo's curls. T'was a pity, the hobbit thought. "The others had already packed up our things."

"Oh, I see," Here he was, sleeping in while the others were doing all the work! The hobbit scolded himself for giving in to his fatigue.

When Bilbo attempted to get his feet under him, his vision blacked out for the briefest of moments. He felt lightheaded at the sudden change in height. Thankfully, Fili and Kili supported him before he could fall on his backside.

"Easy there," Fili said with a small smile.

The hobbit blinked, realizing that something was restricting his movement. He stared down at the cast that encased his left arm, looping around the nape of his neck. Tiny pinpricks ran throughout the said appendage but they were mild and tolerable, unlike before. Some cuts on his cheeks and arms reeked of a kind of fragrant salve, making them sting less.

Bilbo also noted that he was dressed in a loose dwarvish garb, along with his red overcoat that was somewhat clean of troll snot (Bilbo was sure they did their best). Bilbo can only deduce that his best waistcoat was a lost cause (Goodbye, old friend).

"You shouldn't use that arm for the next couple of weeks," Oin advised, packing up his ointments and rolls of bandages.

"How long exactly?" Being handicapped like this would greatly increase the chances of his death in the wilderness. Bilbo wondered how long he would be in such precarious state. He may not have been killed by the trolls but at least he got something out of it.

Oin opened his mouth to answer but just then, Gandalf came striding towards them and said, "It would have been longer, my dear Bilbo, had I not cast a spell to quicken your healing." Gandalf gave the hobbit a smile that was nothing short of fond. "As it is, you'll be fully healed in less than a week."

Of course, the wizard had to ruin it all.

He mentally sighed. Bilbo appreciated the wizard's thoughtfulness, he really did, because he didn't want to be in pain any longer than necessary. But sometimes he wished Gandalf had given his care to someone else. Still, he attempted return the smile and replied, "My thanks, Gandalf."

"Of course, my dear." Gandalf ruffled the hobbit's hair briefly. Then, sobering up, the wizard presented the hobbit the small sword he had been carrying. "Here, this is about your size."

Bilbo looked at the wizard like he was holding out a tonic that will make him live forever. The wizard cocked a brow in reply. After a few seconds, Bilbo gave in and hesitantly took ahold of the sword with his right hand. It was surprisingly light in his hand, unlike any of the weapons of the dwarrows. The sheath and handle had intricate patterns carved into it, giving the sword somewhat of a regal look.

"Where did you get this?" the hobbit couldn't help but ask. He glanced at Gandalf's robes, wondering how in Yavanna's name the wizard managed to hide it all this time.

Bofur showed up out of nowhere and answered for Gandalf, "He found'it in the troll's cave."

"Aye," Gloin followed. "It is a lair of treasures." His nose wrinkled in distaste. "Although the smell is most foul."

"Aye, smelled like my Aunt Burgil's armpit," Nori decided to put his unwanted two coins in.

Kili and Fili grimaced in disgust. Bilbo himself frowned at the crude remark.

"I can't take this," the hobbit said out of principle; he couldn't accept something so lavish! He tried to hand it back but the wizard was having none of it.

"The blade is of Elvish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs and goblins are nearby."

Oh. It was always good to know which direction Bilbo should be running to find his death. For that, Bilbo curled his fingers tighter around the blade, bringing it closer to himself; all thoughts of giving it back had vanished. Besides, thinking about it, the blade was a nice last resort just in case the impossible happened and Bilbo lived through this quest.

"I have never used a sword in my life," the hobbit warned not only Gandalf but also the dwarrows around to hear him. He didn't want to accidentally behead someone because of his ineptness.

Kili clapped a hand on his uninjured shoulder, grinning widely. Goodness, dwarrows and their back-slapping! It would all be fine if they only minded their strength. "Not to worry, Bilbo. We'll teach you."

Bilbo was about to protest; he didn't want to learn how to defend himself. Gandalf's solemn expression, however, made him pause.

"I hope you'll never have to, Bilbo. But if you do, remember this; true courage is about not knowing when to take a life but when to spare one." My, Gandalf looked quite serious about the matter.

"Wise words, Master Gandalf," Fili said, nodding sagely. Then, he met Kili's eyes and both dwarrows burst into boyish laughter.

Bilbo rolled his eyes at their antics. To Gandalf, he replied, "I will heed it, Gandalf." He sincerely doubted he'll ever use the sword against any enemy though.

"Something's coming!" Thorin's shout alarmed every one of the Company.

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That 'something' apparently was another wizard called Radagast the Brown, entering dramatically into their clearing on a sleigh pulled by _rabbits_ of all things. Large rabbits but rabbits all the same.

"I was looking for you, Gandalf!" Radagast said with a sense urgency, pointing at said wizard. "Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

Gandalf's reservations about the whole matter were evident on his face. "Yes?"

Radagast opened his mouth to start. He blinked, looking lost for a moment. "Oh." His eyes alight again with realization. Then, just as quickly, the spark died down and he scratched his head. "Just give me a minute."

The Company watched in bemusement as the ragged wizard attempted to recall what it was he wanted to tell Gandalf. Kili made a rude gesture around his head, imitating a loose nail on a floorboard. Fili, Bofur, Nori, and Ori snickered.

"Oh," the Brown wizard exclaimed in frustration. "I had a thought and now I've lost it." _Poor sod,_ Bilbo thought pityingly. Bilbo wondered if the Brown wizard noticed there was bird poop at the side of his face. "It was right there! At the tip of my tongue."

The hobbit was taken aback when a Gandalf pulled a stick insect right out of the other wizard's mouth. He didn't know whether to be disgusted or worried on how long that bug was in there.

"Right." Gandalf said in a determined manner. "It seems I have matters to attend to. It will be just one moment."

Thorin didn't look at all happy at the delay; his arms were crossed most defiantly and his glare followed Gandalf as the two wizards went far off to have some semblance of privacy. The others, meanwhile, seemed glad for the reprieve. They went about their separate businesses, taking advantage of the unexpected lull in their adventure.

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The tension between Dori, Nori and Dwalin disappeared entirely after the ordeal. Glares and frowns were no longer exchanged and their interactions were no longer strained. Bilbo supposed that life-threatening situations made a big impact on their relationship, especially since they practically saved each other's lives amidst the chaos.

Bilbo guessed this was a good time as any.

Nori sat on a stable log, using his dagger to pick dirt under his fingernails. The hobbit approached him, seating himself beside the dwarf. Nori shot him a suspicious glance but did not otherwise acknowledge his presence.

The hobbit fiddled with his cast, nervousness oozing out of his form. Talking with someone that was practically a stranger had always intimidated him, especially one as a no-nonsense dwarf as Nori. After a few beats, Bilbo cleared his throat. "M-Mister Nori, if—if I might, I have something I want to ask." He started timidly.

The dwarf cocked an unimpressed brow, dagger stilling in the air. "I didn't steal it. The lads hid it in their pockets."

Bilbo blinked rapidly, befuddled. "Pardon me?"

"Your pouch of gold," Nori drawled out. "I didn't take it. Fili and Kili thought it'd be funny to see you panicking when you realize you lost your money."

Bilbo lifted his overcoat and saw that, indeed, the sack that was supposedly strapped around the belt of his trousers had disappeared. Oh, he hadn't the slightest idea. "When did they snatch it?" he wondered out loud.

Nori snorted. "About three days ago. The lads are wondering when you'll notice."

So that's why the young dwarrows had been grinning mischievously for the past few days. Bilbo contemplated whether he should ask for it back; it wasn't like there was a lot to buy from in the wilderness, especially since the hobbit planned to live no longer.

Then, Bilbo shook his head, reprimanding himself for getting side-tracked. "Oh, no, no, no. That isn't what I want to ask about, although I am grateful you deemed to enlighten me on the matter."

"Oh?" Nori twirled the dagged in his hand, side-eyeing the hobbit. The movement reminded Bilbo of how the troll did the same action above him. "Then, what did you want, Master Hobbit?"

"Just Bilbo, please," he replied almost mechanically. "I just want to—How should I—" Bilbo pressed his lips together, trying to gather his thoughts. "You are a thief by trade, yes?"

"Aye, I am." Nori's gaze narrowed with mistrust. "Does that bother you, Master Hobbit?"

"Oh no, not at all," Bilbo hurriedly assured, waving his arm dismissively for added measure. "It's just, well," Nori's impatience was starting to show on his face so the hobbit decided to get to the point. He cleared his throat. "Why was I hired then? Why did the Company need a burglar if they already have you?"

The dwarf's expression settled into one of astonishment. "As you have said, hobbits are lighter on their feet than dwarrows."

"Yes, but you're a professional, no?" Bilbo frowned in confusion. "Surely no untrained hobbit could best any skilled thief."

Nori shot him an undecipherable look. He smoothly rolled the hilt of his knife across his palm, and back again. After a while of thoughtful silence, the dwarf shrugged. "The wizard said we needed a fourteenth member and so, a fourteenth member we should have. I do not claim to fathom the thinking of wise beings but if what our history says about him is true, then he has never failed us. I trust he will not do so in this quest." The dwarf tossed the blade in the air, and expertly caught it by its hilt. "Besides, thirteen is an unlucky number."

Bilbo blinked. "Does that mean I was only hired as a lucky number? That I truly have no use to this quest?" Nori had basically said that Bilbo was hired at the behest of Gandalf, hadn't he? It was nepotism at its finest, Bilbo thought. His participation in the quest meant nothing after all.

A weight lifted off the hobbit's chest, the guilt he had been carrying lessening greatly. The fact that he would leave some important role in the Company empty weighed heavily in his mind when he joined the journey. Now that he knew Nori could replace him as soon as he perished, he need not worry anymore about hindering the Company's mission. He let out sigh of outmost relief.

Something touched his elbow and Bilbo looked up to see it was Nori's hand. The dwarf's brows were furrowed with something akin to puzzlement and disbelief. "Master Hobbit, I assure you that you are anything but useless."

The remark startled a self-deprecating chuckle out of Bilbo. He patted the thief's arm, and replied, "I'm not offended at the implication, Master Nori. No need for flattery." Bilbo had signed the contract fully knowing he couldn't be much help to the quest. It wasn't anything new.

Nori gave a vehement shake of his head. Placing a hand on the hobbit's uninjured shoulder, he met his gaze with an earnest look. "Surely you realize you've saved our lives today."

Bilbo frowned. "That was Gandalf."

"Master Baggins, if you hadn't stalled, not all of us would have survived the ordeal," Nori said slowly, willing Bilbo to understand. "T'was a brave thing, what you did, _literally _putting your head on the line to make sure none of us were eaten. Your kin will be proud of you."

Bilbo shot Nori a look of wide-eyed look. "W-Well, I—" A blush crept on his cheeks, unbidden, as he analyzed the bold praise he was given. No such thing had been directed at him since childhood. He wriggled his nose, eyes averted in embarrassment.

Nori cocked an amused brow, finding the sight endearing.

"O-Oh, but that was—" Bilbo opened his mouth to tell Nori that he was the one who got them caught in the first place when . . .

A skin-crawling howl ripped through the air, making everyone freeze.

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**A/N**: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English ay hindi ang wikang kinagisnan ko ;)). And by the way, **Stitched_Wide_Open**! I thank you very much for your offer to beta :D. But, besides having an erratic muse that I wouldn't want to impose to anyone, I'm really shy about others reading my work before I deem them publishable.

**Next up:** Wargs ahoy! Bilbo just want to rest for eternity; is that really so hard?

Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!

Have an awesome day!

~ Vividpast


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